I Learned the Truth at Seventeen
by mikoki
Summary: The thing about proms and high-school reunions, ... They can be tricky!A little Misa angst plus a little Misa lovin' is simply the best kind!
1. At Seventeen

**I**** Learned The Truth At Seventeen** By Mikoki

Haaaaaaaai my lovely Darlings, y'all feeling pretty today?

I'm here with a new story, and please keep your panties on, missies. It 's only 4 chapters long, already completed in my head, and should be up and completed within the next two/three weeks on the site.

It's loosely based on this song (/watch?vf3qyn2AP-0), which you have to admit, even if you don't like it, is a classic. And the lyrics work for both Michael and Sara, even more for the boy in this chapter.

It's totally AU and will span two decades, with each chapter being another age in those twenty years. **It's not high-standard and not special, written in only a couple of hours without special attention for eloquence etc, Just a simple story, so expect nothing more, nothing less.**

It's misa... (facepalms) of course it's Misa...DUH!! And strong R-ish / mild NC-17-ish (grins) with a little angst thrown in between. Ah, ah!! Our favorite mix!

**It's unbeta-ed. SORRY!!** Why? Because the dance-school is almost finished for the summer, giving me more free time in which I plan to have a major updating-fest on WFA. I need that story to be finished as soon as possible, because I've already made you wait so freaking long. So yes, I will hassle Pam and Rebekah so much they'll want to block my every access to them, so I didn't want to bother them with this flimsy piece. So all mistakes and typos are solely mine. DEAL WITH IT.

Baabaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii

Xxxxxxx

Lord Mikeystar

ps: before every link I post you have to add the site YOUTUBE because this site wont let me post the whole link

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**Chapter One: at seventeen **

At seventeen Michael seemed _lost_.

That was the only word that felt appropriate to use when Lincoln looked at his younger brother, who was sitting on the couch next to him, with shoulders drooped in defeat and glazy eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. Lincoln's own prom-tuxedo looked alien on the skinnier teen, with the dinner jacket too large for Michael's more delicate frame, and the trousers too short for his long legs.

His brother's fingers had long disregarded the single red rose they'd held nervously an hour ago, and now they were resting in his lap and were twirling around each other softly, with Michael's eyes fixed on their every shift, like somehow, their soft movement was the only thing that kept him from breaking down.

Suddenly his baby brother's Adam's apple bopped up and down painfully loud, while his dejected featured turned a shade more miserable, if possible, and Lincoln had to hold back his groan when he saw those turquoise eyes become so watery, they were bound to spill those tears in the very near future.

Seeing his brother so devastated tugged at his heart, but seeing his brother cry, would kill him. So without further hesitation he tried to stop those tears from spilling.

"Want me to beat them up?" He suggested softly.

"'Cause you know, brass knuckles aren't that hard to make... Just give me some tape, some spoons, a lighter and five minutes to work my magic, and I'll be ready to kick some ass."

The last part was accentuated with his left fist hitting his right palm, but the expected smile on his companion's lips didn't come.

The only sign Michael had even heard him speak, was the sudden acceleration in blinking his eyelids to hold the tears at bay, while his nose sniffled loudly.

"Sssokay," Michael mumbled moments later, and the deflated tone of his voice brought on a new wave of compassion in Lincoln. "It's my fault...really, I should have known this would happen...I was stupid to think someone like her would want to go out with... me...For real."

The self-loathing in Michael's voice increased with every word that passed his lips, and by the end of it, Lincoln's ears were buzzing from all the misery he'd heard coming from his brother's mouth.

The earlier rage he'd felt, had subdued when he'd tried to console the young man next to him, but now the fire in his veins ignited again with a vigor, setting his whole body ablaze with anger. Anger for his brother's too sensitive nature and low self-esteem, anger for the fact that Michael's only guide into life had been a too young punk of a brother who made more mistakes than anything else, and anger for snobby rich kids with blond hair and fancy cars who decided the world was theirs to rule.

The heat in his body made him jump upright from the sofa and soon he was pacing a hole in the floor in front of Michael.

"Fuck! That's it, Buddy!"

His nostrils flared with anger noisily and it succeeded in drawing Michael's attention.

"You're going to that freaking prom, and you're gonna show that whore that she didn't break you..."

"Linc..." The uncertainty in Michael's whimpering voice made his heart squeeze with pain, but he'd made up his mind. His brother would stand up for himself and show that bitch what she was made off, even if it would take all night to convince him to go.

--

Eventually it only took eighteen minutes to lift up his brother's spirit and convince him to go to the prom alone to show them all their horrible prank hadn't worked. Another minute was needed to straighten the undone bow-tie, and to envelope the still shaken boy in his strong arms and give him the most smothering hug Lincoln could muster, and yet another thirty seconds had to be added to ruffle his younger brother's hair lovingly, say he was proud of him and kick him out of the door.

But suddenly nineteen and a half minutes seemed so long in comparison to the mere seconds it took to sprint to his bedroom after the front-door had closed, and start hitting the living daylight out of the boxing-bag that hung from the ceiling.

He kicked and grunted, while thoughts and facts about their lives made his soul scream in agony.

Their parents' unexpected deaths and Michael's struggles to cope with it. His own struggles with the orphanage and ultimately his fight to earn and keep custody over his brother. Their money-issues. Michael's LLI. His promise to his mother he would always protect his family. And his brother's low self esteem and too gentle nature that made him a sitting duck for jocks who thrived on picking on shy and dorky young men like Michael.

It didn't take long for a sweat to break out on Lincoln's forehead. He started breathing erratically, while his arm-muscles acidified due to the sudden and frantic work-out, but he couldn't stop, as more memories were being projected on the punching-bag in front of him.

The ridiculously silly grin on his brother's face when he'd come home three weeks ago, and ultimately the very girlish giggle that had left his mouth when he'd finally told Lincoln one of the most popular girl's had asked him to be her prom date. He'd joked all day with his brother, telling him he never wanted to hear such a high-pitched giggle from him again, and that they needed to hurry because he only had three more weeks to toughen his brother up, but what had then been a sweet catalyst of laughter and happiness, now left an aftertaste that was so bitter it nearly choked Lincoln.

His arms trembled and fists hurt, but he kept striking away blindly.

Michael's growing self-doubts and nervousness these last few days. His outrageously long search for the perfect rose in half a dozen flower-shops. The three hours it took him to get ready and Lincoln's amicable pestering that he needed to stop with all the perfectness because he would make other men look bad, and then the final blow, the phone-call that had changed it all.

Lincoln's fists squeezed tighter and his nails dug into the flesh of his palms. It stung, but the pain was nothing in comparison to the memory of Michael's trembling fingers grabbing the phone and pushing the digits of that Logan-cunt to ask why she was late, and then the sound of that snake's cruel laughter that was so loud even Lincoln had heard.

Suddenly Lincoln's chest heaved painfully, like someone had punched him in the gut, but there was no physical attacker in front of him, only the image of those wide innocent turquoise eyes that turned impossibly dark and haunted the moment Michael realized it had all been a prank.

The phone had fallen from Michael's hand and had clattered to the ground noisily and ungracefully, just like Lincoln now stumbled backwards clumsily away from the assaulted punching-bag to drop down in his sofa with a loud thud.

His chest heaved and his biceps and knuckles burned, and while he frantically tried to calm himself, he hoped his little brother would be strong enough to get through this night unscattered.

_It didn't matter. _

None of it.

Sure, it stung a little, but ultimately it didn't really matter if he had a date. In fact, going stag had its benefits. Now he didn't have to be nervous, and he didn't have to spend all his money on his date, or listen to her high-pitched ramblings about things he would, no doubt, have been clueless about.

_Yes, it definitely didn't matter_.

This mantra had repeated over and over again in Michael's head on the short drive to the school's gymnasium, and by the time he arrived at the parking lot, he actually felt he could walk into that room and face them.

He turned off the ignition and closed his eyes for a second while a deep sigh squeezed past his lips.

The habitual character of this ritual mocked him in the face.

It hadn't mattered too, when he'd been the last to be picked during PA. They were right, after all, he wasn't good at sports, his body still waiting for the muscles Lincoln promised would come someday.

And the sighs he heard when they were teamed up with him for a school-assignment, and the weird looks he got whenever their forced collaboration put focus on his underdeveloped social skills. They didn't really matter too. Someday he would be as brave and confident as Lincoln. Someday his clumsiness and shyness would just disappear into thin air.

_None of it mattered. _

But when he finally entered the gymnasium, and his eyes fell on the spectacle before him, he knew that this time he wouldn't be able to fool himself.

At seventeen Michael finally learned the truth that _it all mattered_.

The dance-floor was filled with couples dancing, and when his eyes travelled from pair to pair, noticing the beautiful dresses wrapped around the delicate female frames, and seeing their partner's arms slung possessively around them, a sudden feeling of despair squeezed his chest tight.

He didn't want to be so shy and clumsy anymore , he wanted his hand sprawled on the lower back of a girl too. _Of_ _course it mattered_ that nobody wanted him.

What was he doing here?

Soon somebody would notice him, and then the whispers would start, and the mocking voices and the laughter, and suddenly it all mattered. He didn't want to hear those whispers behind his back anymore.

All of a sudden he felt nauseous and the back of his eyes began to sting again with the threat of tears.

Panic started spreading in his belly as he realized he would not only be not strong enough to stand up to them like Lincoln wanted but he would give them the extra pleasure of seeing him cry.

He started shuffling backwards to the door, but the whispers had already started. He dropped his gaze to the floor but not before he'd noticed the sneers on their faces and the pointed fingers.

His eyes prickled but the safety of the hall was only a couple of feet away, but just before he could reach it, two of the "head"-jocks saw him and jogged towards him, drawing a lot of attention.

He cursed under his breath, and turned towards the door swiftly, but instead of fleeing through it, he found himself in a tight head-lock while the two jocks dragged him towards their group.

"Yow, Snow White, you weren't going to leave, now were you?" The one who had his arm around Michael's head spoke.

"You just got here, man!" He continued with fake enthusiasm while he rubbed his knuckles over his skull painfully.

Michael just grabbed the guys forearm and tried to pull it back a little from his throat to ease the pressure.

He focused on not tripping over his own feet, while they dragged him past many of his peers, until he was finally released from the head-lock and pushed into the middle of the most popular crowd.

"YO! Logan, your date is here."

The cruel giggles and catcalls that surrounded him made him dizzy but he had a feeling the worst was yet to come.

-- --

Big brown eyes concentrated on the tip of the black lipstick while it concealed the red of her lips.

Seconds later Sara leaned away from the restroom's mirror while she popped her lips noisily on a small tissue to get rid of the excessive lipstick.

"Damn girl, you are working that tat!"

Sara paused from redoing her black mascara to look at her friend Katie and gave her a toothy grin.

"I KNOW! My mom and I had so much fun putting it on, and god, Katie, you should have seen Frank's face when he saw that skull on my arm and thought it was real." Sara chuckled.

Both girls giggled before they turned back to the mirror to adjust their make-up.

"You still calling him Frank, huh?" Katie asked.

"Mmm, mmhhh." Sara hummed.

"He accepts that I'm going through a certain phase right now." She continued while sweeping her hands over her anti-prom Punk-attire to accentuate her point.

"God!" Her friend sighed dramatically while putting away her own more traditional lipstick "It should be illegal to have such cool parents!"

Sara just grinned.

"Woman, I still can't believe you put on _that_ outfit." Katie said while shaking her head in amazement.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you're _more_ than sizzling hot in it." She added quickly while mock-fanning herself.

"But the Queen-Gremlin and her minions weren't so pleased to see you went against prom-protocol so much."

Sara turned her head again to give herself a once-over in the mirror and could only smile remembering the sour look on Logan's face when her eyes had fallen on the halter top with the skull in the middle, the extremely short chequered skirt, the black "fuck me" boots and the thick black leather belt.

The outfit screamed 'rebel' and somehow Sara made it sexy without looking like a tramp.

Her grin widened, remembering the jealous looks the blonde cheerleader and her Wannabes had thrown her way throughout the evening, and not for the first time she thanked whatever spirit that was responsible for her situation.

Her parents both worked for Doctors Without Borders.

For as long as she could remember she switched between going to school here whenever her parents weren't on a mission and getting private education by tutors whenever they were abroad.

It resulted in her being away too much to build up many deep friendships. She'd also skipped a year, the combination of her intelligence and the homeschooling, giving her an advantage over her peers, but that hadn't really bothered her.

She loved being away with her parents, and soaking up the different cultures around the world. And when she got home she could always turn to her best friend Katie who stuck with her through better and worse. That was all she ever really needed.

Her parents were hippies by heart, raising her to be a unique, compassionate and confident young lady and so it came to be that she didn't much care for the social pecking order in high-school. After seeing children die in her arms because their village had no clean drinking water, being popular with the in-crowd simply wasn't that high on Sara's wish-list anymore.

Strangely enough, it was that care-free attitude about her status on school, that earned her the respect within several "cliques". The dorks loved her because she was smart and kind, the jocks loved her because she was beautiful and funny, and of course, as a result of the latter all the cheerleaders hated her.

Jealous bitches!

The arrival of three of those fake bimbos brought her out of her reverie. They stopped their gossiping the minute they saw her and when Sara felt the three pairs of eyes burn into her back, she turned around slowly.

The three of them squinted their eyes menacingly at the same time and Sara smirked at the ludicrousness of it.

She put her hands on her hips and lifted her eyebrows.

"Isn't it enough that all your boyfriends stare at my breasts already, that you have to do it too?" She challenged with sparkling eyes, which only shined brighter when she witnessed the girls' mouths fall slack in shock before they stormed out of the restroom, no doubt, sprinting straight to Logan to tell her about this.

"Girlyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Katie squealed next to her.

"God gave you the wrong skin-color, 'cause Baby, you got the claws of a black woman."

Sara let herself be enveloped in Katie's arms for a victory-hug before they started heading back to the gymnasium.

They were still grinning like fools when they entered the main dance-hall where the commotion in the middle of the room caught their attention immediately.

At first it looked like some kind of dance-contest where groups of people challenged each other, so Sara quickened her pace towards the crowd and pushed her way through, but when her eyes fell on the main protagonists in front of her, her smile faded.

It was that shy boy from her math and history class, the one that always sat in the back and never said a word to her. He seemed like a sweet guy, and had the promise to become a very handsome man, but she had a feeling he didn't quite see himself that way.

Oh, she knew him, Michael Scofield. He was the smartest kid around, and he had the most striking eyes she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen a lot of them, because somehow he always seemed to look down, but about a year ago they'd crashed into each other in the hall-way and while he'd clumsily gathered her fallen books and stuttered his apologies, their eyes had clashed briefly and it had taken her breath away.

Those eyes were yet again trained to the ground and while she shuffled a little closer and started to hear bits and pieces of what Logan was saying her heart froze in her chest.

_Nice tux, Michael, did you dress up just for me?_

Sara had heard the rumors, that Logan would invite one of the 'dorks' to be her prom date and make him believe it until the very evening, but never in her worst nightmares had she believed they would go through with it.

Nobody could be that cruel, right?

But as she saw Michael tug at the sleeve of his jacket timidly, she realized how naïve she'd been.

Her heart broke for him as she saw his eyes fill with tears. This had to be torture for him, to first believe one of the most popular girls had asked him out and to then get humiliated in front of the whole school.

Sara's heart started to beat in her ears, faster and faster every passing second as disbelief was quickly being replaced by anger.

The poor guy seemed ready to crumble, with his shoulders hanging low in defeat and a soft tremble making his legs shaky, and with venom tingling her whole system she realize why they'd picked _him_.

He was too gentle for this, and she'd never seen him stand up for himself, so she had a sick feeling in her stomach he wouldn't start now.

On top of that, everybody knew he had this strange condition that gave him these weird panic attacks whenever that things got too much. She remembered several occasion where he'd just raised his arm in class and the teacher had given him the permission to leave without further explanations. She'd learned that he left to be alone and meditate or something to calm down.

But there were no teachers close by here to give him a relieve from the growing panic she saw reflected in his eyes, and according to the twisted sneer on Logan's face she knew that too.

"I bet dear old Daddy forgot to give you money for a new suit before his drunken ass drove that car into that tree. Good thing he killed your mom with it too, so they can't see what a pathetic human being their son turned out to be."

A collective gasp reverberated in the crowd, and with incredulity Sara witnessed all the shocked faces of people who thought this joke had gone too far but at the same time did nothing about it.

Michael's face twisted in agony, and when his lower lip started to tremble she felt the strongest urge to hug and protect him.

Without really noticing, her feet started to move towards Logan, while she grabbed a full cup of punch of a nearby table.

Logan was about to say something else but stopped when she saw Sara come to stand between her and Michael.

She seemed shocked at first but Sara didn't give her the opportunity to recover as she raised her right hand and slapped the girl in the face hard.

The slap echoed in the suddenly deafeningly quiet room, even the band had stopped playing, and without looking around her, Sara knew everybody was holding their breath.

"_**That**_, was for being so cruel to him..." Sara spat in the slightly dazed face of her nemesis.

"And _**this**_...," She threw the punch all over Logan's front "...is for being the most retarded and vile snake on the face of the planet."

Hands flew to mouths in shock, and many eyes grew wide with disbelief, but her only focus was on the fuming "thing" in front of her, and when "it" finally spoke, "it" sounded like air-borne venom.

"You're gonna regret this, Tancredi."

But Sara wasn't fazed, not one small bit.

"Oh, BITE ME, Cunt!"

And with it she turned around to face the shaken young man behind her, grabbed his hand forcefully and pulled him along towards the door.

Fuelled by adrenaline her heart drummed speedily in her chest, but as she heard the silence being broken by loud applause, she couldn't help the relieved sigh from leaving her lungs. It seemed that not _all_ was lost to the world after all.

--

She ran and pulled without looking over her shoulder, gripping the hand of her unexpected companion harder in fear of losing him, until she'd reached the far entrance to the football-field where the drum of the restarted music was nothing more than a soft thud in the night's air, and she was sure no prying eyes were hidden.

She stopped running and turned back towards Michael, just in time to see him stumble backwards and lean heavily against the wall of the athletes' locker room, with his chest heaving strongly.

She was breathing heavily too from the sudden work-out but soon she realized it wasn't the run but a panic reaction that made him hyperventilate so strongly. Concern filled her stomach as she saw him struggle to breathe while the fright in his wildly blinking and shifting eyes _grew_ instead of _receded_.

Her caring personality fired up the strong urge to help him, and without hesitating she closed the distance between them and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, woah there,...take it easy." She whispered softly, applying slight pressure to his shoulders so he wouldn't double over.

His eyes still shifted restlessly, looking everywhere but at her, and she leaned in even closer, sandwiching him between the wall and her body, so he wouldn't be able to flee before he was calm again.

One of her hands fell from his shoulder to rest on his wildly beating heart, while the other rose to touch his face softly.

He closed his eyes and shuddered, trying to control his breathing while she explored his face tenderly, wiping the sweat from his brows, cupping his cheek and gently forcing his turned head to face her fully.

"Hey, please look at me... calm down,... they're gone..."

The moment his eyes opened slowly, her breath got stuck in her throat, just like it had that day so long ago. It was dark, and the brightness from the football-field lights didn't reach them very good, but she still saw the kaleidoscope of green and blue and even a little yellow in those magnificent eyes in front of her.

His eyes glazed over with unshed tears. Tears that probably had been prickling his eyelids from the moment he'd found out it was all a prank, and it made the pain in his eyes shine through even more.

She didn't know him very well, but he looked so young all of a sudden, with an air of sadness surrounding him, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and out of the blue she had the strangest urge to smother him in her embrace and help him carry that impossible load.

Without hesitation she did just that.

One hand snuck under his armpit to his back while the other found the back of his head and pushed his body into her chest.

She squeezed tight, even when he froze the first few seconds, and started caressing the back of his neck, gently forcing him to lay his head on her shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay...it's over now, I promise." She mumbled against his shoulder and when slowly but steadily his arms crept around her waist, and he started to squeeze back, she was slightly shocked that somehow, she found herself comforted by his embrace too.

Three minutes later they were still locked together, with her mouth whispering sweet nothings against his shoulder and her hands rubbing soothingly along his back and neck. His breathing had returned to normal and it felt safe to assume he'd calmed down enough.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and leaned back a bit until she could look at his face.

His eyes were shifted downwards again, but he wasn't trembling anymore, which had to be a good sign.

His cheeks were wet, his eyelids having lost the battle against a few silent tears and she cupped his face on both sides and swiped the wetness away with her thumbs.

He still looked way too miserable for her likings and she concluded that this young man was in dire need of some fun. That thought made her grin softly, because she saw a challenge in it, a challenge to make him laugh. And if nothing else, she loved challenges!

With adrenaline spiking her tranquil mood, she grabbed his hand again and started to drag him back to the parking lot they'd passed.

"Come on, Michael Scofield, I think it's time to forget about what happened earlier on and start focusing on the rest of the evening, 'cause I swear I'm gonna give you the best prom night you could have wished for, Mister." She said with a twinkle in her eye.

He let himself be dragged along without resistance, the only sign of uncertainty coming out of his mouth when he spoke hesitantly.

"How..." He stopped talking to clear his throat.

"How..., humh, ... do you know my name?" He finished hoarsely.

"Oh, I know your name, alright. How could I forget the name of the one and only person who ever beat me at the spelling contest? You probably don't remember anymore, but you whipped my ass good at that competition about five years back. I've been hoping for a rematch ever since." She grinned over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He apologized while his eyes still didn't quite meet hers.

"What?" Sara voiced with incredulity "Why are you apologizing? I have no problem losing from _you_. You're just so smart, and I've known all along you're destined to do great things. So in ten years, when you are this big shot scientist or doctor or sometin' like that, I'm so gonna brag that I know ya."

She ended her statement with a toothy smile. Their gaze met for a brief second, before his eyes lowered to the ground again and he ducked his head to hide the sudden fiery blush in his cheeks.

The cuteness of his actions made her laugh out loud warmly and she squeezed his hand shortly.

Oh, she was going to have so much fun with this challenge.

--

And fun it had been. In fact, she'd laughed so hard these last few hours her stomach muscles felt stiff from all the twitching they'd done.

Her first fit of giggles had resulted from watching Michael transform from quiet and shy to this nervous jittery wrack when she'd decided to give his brother's car a "test-drive". Apparently she wasn't such a good driver as she thought she was and apparently Lincoln's wrath, if something would come to happen to his baby, was something to be feared.

She'd had so much fun, watching him squirm nervously in the passenger seat, but after a while she'd taken pity on the poor guy and she'd stopped at the first ice-cream parlor they'd come across. She'd figured they would need the extra sugar in their system to last through the night.

There the fun had continued, especially when she witnessed him doing a double take when she'd bought him the biggest Sunday known to man. She'd loved seeing the shyness in Michael disappear whenever his instincts got the upper hand. He'd protested vehemently that **he** should be the one to buy **her** something, not the other way around. That was the moment Michael Scofield and Sara Tancredi's stubbornness had officially met, and of course that was also the moment that Michael had officially lost his first battle against her. The cute little pout that had formed on his lips when she'd slid a couple of bills towards their attendant had been enough to lighten up her face with a smile for the rest of their stay.

It had been fascinating to see the awkwardness in Michael's form slowly melt away with every spoon of ice-cream that disappeared into his mouth, and by the time they had to leave he'd actually seemed at ease in her presence. She'd even witnessed a couple of smirks lift up the corners of his lips. They were devilishly divine, and it had spurred her on to see him smile fully.

As it turned out, not much more had been needed to reach her goal of seeing him smile. It had been unexpected, yes, but the combination of finding a couple of paint spray-cans in the trunk, and spotting Logan's car when driving by their school, had been a perfect match to see her companion smile.

They'd worked on adrenaline only, both realizing how very "juvenile delinquent-y" their actions were, but both not really giving a damn because the bitch deserved it. A couple of thrilling minutes later they'd sprinted away from the now "pimped up" black BMW. They'd ran like crazy, hand in hand, this time with Michael dragging her along, until they'd reached the same athletes' shed from earlier that night, and both had collapsed against the wall in a heap of giggles.

It had taken them long minutes to calm down, because every time they'd glanced into each other's eyes or spotted the remains of the paint on their fingers images of bright pink flowers on shiny black metal had flashed before their eyes, making them double over again with laughter.

Seeing the spark in his eyes, and hearing his boyish laughter had warmed her heart more than she'd expected, so when later that evening he'd guided her to the local rest-home to introduce her to a couple of elderly people he often volunteered to shop for, she wasn't surprised anymore at how it overwhelmed her.

They'd ended up playing cards with a bunch of feisty grandpas and grannies, who'd turned out to be surprisingly foulmouthed while losing at poker, but who'd all been full of praise over Michael. He'd laughed abundantly in front of her, totally at ease around his 'friends', just like he'd blushed fiercely whenever one of their elderly poker-buddies started telling 'embarrassing' stories about him, or even worse, whenever they'd called her his girlfriend.

She'd found it all incredibly endearing, and with each passing minute she became more intrigued by this boy. He'd turned out to be the sweetest guy around and she hadn't been able to fathom why he had so little self-esteem. It had pained her to realize that _she too_ hadn't really given him any attention these past few years, and that if she'd just taken some time to break through his shyness and clumsiness around girls, she could have found a wonderful person, and possible great friend, much earlier.

--

"I'm sorry."

They were slouched over in the backseat of Lincoln's car, side by side, their shoulders touching, with their gaze directed at the dark sky above them. They'd undone the hood of the car to watch the stars and not surprisingly she'd been gobsmacked by Michael's knowledge about outer-space and its stellar systems.

She'd been mesmerized by him, his soft voice the only sound around them for long minutes when he talked about the milky way and planets with calm admiration. At one point she'd realized his low voice was something to be treasured, so smooth and rich it could captivate anyone's ears, so low and soft it could lull the loudest baby to sleep, but as soon as the subject had changed from stars to more personal stuff, its timbre had changed slightly, as if sadness made his vocal cords tremble a little more.

In a timid monologue, she hadn't dared to interrupt, he'd talked a little about his parents' deaths, the struggle his brother and him had to endure to stay together, their money problems. And somehow she felt the urge to apologize to him for her own more beneficial situation.

"I'm sorry." She repeated softly as he hadn't seemed to have registered her the first time around, seemingly too lost in his own memories.

This time he did acknowledge her and when their heads turned sideways to gaze at each other she was struck for the umpteenth time that night by the wonders that were his eyes. The reflection of the full moon made them sparkle like the million stars above them, and the darkness of the night made his pupils impossibly large, like dark bottomless pools in which she could easily drown.

"Why?" He countered softly, a sudden vulnerability plastered all over his face, like he just realized he'd bared his most dark secrets to a stranger.

Her gaze fell down to his hand that was resting in his lap and she started plucking at a loose string of white thread around the shirt's cuff of his left arm.

She took a deep breath, remembering all she'd told him about her wealthy grandparents and that her comfortable financial situation was pretty much scripted in stone.

"It just seems...wrong, you know?" She elaborated timidly "That some people, like me, have nothing to worry about, and can live their life to the fullest, when others have all the bad luck in the world and have to struggle so hard to keep afloat. It's just not fair." She finished guiltily.

He seemed to pick up the remorseful tone in her whispered words, because he stilled her nervous plucking of his shirt by lacing his fingers through hers.

"Hey, don't be like that." He said while his thumb started drawing out little patterns on the base of hers.

"It's not your fault, and hey, Linc and I manage. Yes, it's hard sometimes, but only sometimes. Most of the times we aren't any different from you or Logan, or anyone else." He voiced confidently.

His words hit her chest like a freight train and she almost groaned under the weight of it.

To begin with, he was lying. She remembered the determination in his voice when he'd told her about how his brother spent all of his saved "collage money" to pay for the mortgage and their every day costs, and how Michael was studying so hard, determined to earn himself a scholarship, go to a good university and get a respectable job so he could repay his brother someday, and take care of him in return.

How could those words out of a seventeen-year-old ever be considered normal?

And secondly, he was lying to make _her_ feel better. And he did it with so much confidence it shook her. Every passing minute she felt more amazed by him, while all he did was doubt himself. The only time he felt confident was when he was taking the blame for something and sacrificed himself for the well-being of another person.

The pressure on her chest, however, evaporated immediately when she felt their joined hands being lifted and he placed the softest of all kisses on the back of her hand.

The guilt disappeared at once, to be replaced by shock, and by the look on his face Michael was as stunned by his uncharacteristic boldness as she. He dropped her hand instantly while a fiery blush crept high up his cheeks, and suddenly she was giggling.

This guy was too cute to be real and the ongoing mortified look on his face, told her he wasn't in the least aware of his cuteness. It made her laugh even harder while she laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his bicep lovingly to make sure he knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

Seconds turned into minutes, and gradually she felt the tenseness in his form lessen. She lifted her head and gazed at his profile lovingly.

Out of the blue she lifted her hand and let her fingers glide through his inch-long thick hair in a gentle caress.

"I like your hair."

His only response was a soft grunt while he dipped his head and another blush attacked his face.

She shook her head softly. "Why do you keep doing that?... Looking down whenever someone gives you a compliment?"

It took him a while to answer but she didn't push him.

"I just.." He faltered.

"I don't get a lot of compliments..." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes shortly before his gaze fell back on his lap.

"And.. huh, well, I know they're not true, and it's just said to make me feel better...and, I mean...yes, well..." He faltered again.

"Obviously... I don't do well with compliments." He finished timidly.

The smile had left her face the second he'd voiced his beliefs that the compliments weren't true and suddenly she felt the biggest urge to shake him hard and force some sense into him. She'd never met anyone with such a low self image and not for the first time this evening she was stunned by the fact that he couldn't see how great of a person he really was.

She thought of Logan and her pack of hyenas and how they had, no doubt, "helped" in making him believe he was as undesirable as he felt, and with fire spreading through her veins she made a decision that would change everything.

Without second-guessing herself she pushed herself off on her seat until her shins were resting on both sides of his thighs and she was straddling him. His head shot up with shock and stunned words startled spilling from his lips.

"Sara?... What are you doi..."

Her finger on his lips silenced him and she heard his breath hitch in his throat.

"Shhhht, Michael. I promised you a prom night you'd never forget..." She'd never intended to say it so huskily

"And this is _me_, delivering on that promise. Just stop thinking for a while and ... simply feel."

By the end of her statement their faces were only a breath away and she heard, rather than saw, his Adam's apple bob up and down nervously.

His eyes grew impossibly wide when her hands fell on his and she guided them to her hips, and when her arms crept around his neck in a loose embrace she saw something shift in his darkened orbs. He looked scared all of a sudden and with startling clarity she realized he must be even more inexperienced than she'd initially thought. There was a good change this was his first kiss ever and the realization of it made the tingle in her stomach stir even fiercer. She couldn't mess up his first kiss. First kisses were special. First kisses lasted forever.

"Close your eyes." She breathed against his face.

He did.

And then it happened.

The softness of his lips surprised her, just like the tingle that shot up to the very end of her spine like lightning.

This was all for him, right? To give him more self-esteem, to show him how wonderful he was, and that others could desire him, a friend helping out a friend, nothing more, right?

Then why did it seem like the pit of her stomach was on fire? Why did her heart start to beat in her ears furiously when, after the initial shocked stillness, he started to move his lips too?

Her eyes squeezed tight in confusion, but at the same time she felt her fingers dig deeper into the hairs at the base of his skull, both wanting to massage his doubts away as well as pushing him deeper into her.

Their mouths opened slightly and when the wet tip of his tongue slipped between her lips a low sound rumbled in the base of her throat.

She tried to refocus. This was all for him, right? But as she felt his fingers curl up, gripping the fabric of her skirt between them frantically, digging his knuckles into the flesh of her hips in an act of uncontrolled longing, she couldn't help but moan against his lips.

The soft sound seemed to give him a bit more confidence, because he straightened his spine away from the car's seat and nearer to her chest, while his hands tugged her hips a little closer.

The gentle hesitancy of their lips' movements started to disappear with each counting second and soon they were sucking and nipping each other in with such abundance it shook her to the core.

She pushed her shins into the car-seat hard, squeezing her thighs around his, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. Her burning core moved higher on his lap and when she suddenly felt his hardness underneath her, she moaned into his mouth again. This time without restraint, this time the rumble was so forceful it reverberated through whole her body, to the very tips of her toes.

She bucked her hips against him for a second time, her tingling bundle of nerves aching for more pressure, and this time Michael was the one to grunt against her lips.

His nails dug into her hips pleasantly hard, but out of the blue all pressure disappeared. Suddenly her hips felt cold without his warm hands gripping her and he'd withdrawn his mouth so fast, for a second the heath of his lips could still be felt and she could still pretend they were kissing.

Her dazed eyes opened slowly, and she frowned when her gaze fell on his turned head. Only now she realized his body had tensed beneath her and he kept avoiding her eyes, even when she dipped her head to seek out his gaze.

"Michael?" She questioned huskily, uneasiness gripping her heart. Had she done something wrong?

The silence crept on, becoming heavier each passing second while the frown on her forehead increased.

"I'm ... sorry..." He choked out eventually "I didn't ... mean for it to happen."

"I'm so sorry" He finished miserably, still avoiding eye-contact.

Her forehead creased even more. She'd obviously missed something, and she shifted a little closer, dipping her head even deeper, trying to catch his lowered gaze.

Her core rubbed against his throbbing erection in the process and she saw him bit his lower lip forcefully.

Suddenly the veil of confusion was lifted from before her eyes, and she started noticing the barely contained tremble in his form, as well as the fiery blush on his cheeks.

She didn't stop the smile from spreading on her face as she realized he seemed to be apologizing for his bodily reaction to their close contact.

This guy was too damn cute for his own good. If only he would realize how wet she was by now.

Figuring, grabbing his fingers and guiding them to her hidden core so he could experience it for himself, would be a little _too much_ for his timid and inexperienced mind, so she opted to grind her center against him once again while tucking her fingers under his chin to make him look at her.

She cupped both of his cheeks and waited until his shy gaze met hers.

"My sweet, sweet Michael." She whispered softly, before gently placing a closed-mouth kiss to his trembling lips.

She leaned away from him, regarding him with awe and never breaking eye-contact, except for the few seconds needed to lift her t-shirt over her head.

His orbs grew double their normal size in the blink of an eye, and she just chuckled.

With amusement she saw his mouth fall slack in shock when she didn't stop there and reached behind her to unclasp her black lacey bra.

The night's air was relatively warm, but her nipples still hardened visibly when they were suddenly exposed to it.

His eyes however, were still locked with hers, intensely so, like he was afraid to gaze a little lower.

Again, his cuteness overwhelmed her, and with a deep sigh she grabbed his hands and guided them to her uncovered breasts.

The moment his trembling fingers fell on her heated skin they moaned in union. All signs of amusement were gone now, and through heavy-lidded eyes she tried to focus on his face. Seeing the different emotions travel over his features while he gently started to grope her flesh was a real treat but soon his teasingly gentle exploration became almost too much to bear.

The last thing she saw before he flickered both his thumbs over her peaking nipples simultaneously, was the way he nibbled on his lower lip nervously. After that all she saw was sparkling stars as she threw her head back in ecstasy and arched her chest into his touch.

His movements became bolder after seeing her reaction, gripping and fondling her until she felt ready to explode, and before she realized what she was doing she crushed her bare chest against his, slamming him back against the car seat, and started kissing him forcefully. He didn't even hesitate once this time and soon they were a chaotic mess of sloppy kisses, exploring hands and uncontrolled groans.

Sometimes it felt clumsy, like when his hands weaved a little too hard through her hair, pulling out several fine strings in the process, or like when their lips bumped into each other a little too forcefully, leaving an angry teeth-print into the already sensitive flesh, but she didn't care about that, she only cared about the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him, hard and insistent against her inner thigh.

Driven by the fire in her veins and the heated look in his eyes she fumbled blindly next to her, until she found her little handbag, and more importantly, the foil wrapper in it.

The minute she'd shuffled higher on his lap, creating a bit of space between them, space she needed to pull his zipper down, he froze, but she was too far gone to stop now, and seconds later she was rolling the rubber latex down over his enlarged member.

He threw his head back against the seat and cursed under his breath while his eyes squeezed shut tight in sweet agony.

She needed him to look at her, she needed him to see how much he was desired at the moment so she tried to calm down a little and caressed his cheek until he opened his eyes slowly.

The fury that had possessed them moments earlier was suddenly gone, and time seemed to stand still. A silent agreement passed between them and ever so slowly he gripped the girth of his penis while she lifted herself on her knees slightly and pushed her panties aside.

By now her slit was glistering with her wetness and when she descended onto him his stiff cock slipped past her entrance to the front of her vulva. They tried again, his hand trembling even more and they missed again.

He let out a frustrated grunt that soon turned remorseful.

"I'm sorry,...I've never...I mean, I don't know how to..." He fumbled on while his face contorted with the most desperate expression she'd ever seen. He sighed in defeat, like he was convinced she would want to quit after hearing his latest secret, but seeing him retreat into his shell again, only made her want him more.

She caught his gaze and winked at him softly.

"Let me help you with that. This part can be a little tricky." She whispered huskily, while grabbing the base of his penis and guiding it too her core.

He groaned softly, and his thighs tensed underneath her, but none of it registered anymore because a split second later she was sliding down on his rigid flesh, her slippery heat enfolding his large cock to the hilt.

Her head flew back in ecstasy, a move mirrored by Michael, but while she could do nothing but let out an agonizing moan, he threw an elongated and excruciating-sounding "Oh, god" into the stillness of the night.

They stilled for only a moment, but the building pressure in her belly forced her to smother him in her embrace almost immediately while she started riding him.

They kissed frantically, leaving wet spots of saliva on each other's cheeks and throat's from their frantic lip-actions, all the while trying to seek out a rhythm that felt comfortable for both.

He gripped her hips forcefully, trusting into her at the same time, and she was forced to open her mouth in a silent scream against his right cheek when his pubic bone rubbed against her sensitive clit.

The rhythm wasn't perfect and when she felt him start to tremble uncontrollably against her, she knew he wouldn't be able to last long and wait for her, but it didn't matter, because just being here for him like this, made it all worth it.

Suddenly he dug his nails into her hips, trying in vain to stop her bucking.

"Sara, you have to stop... Please, I'm not gonna... you _need_ to stop." He whimpered desperately against her flesh, his teeth scraping the skin where her shoulder met her neck.

She only rocked harder, squeezing her pelvic muscles while she hugged him tighter.

"Ssht Michael, ... don't hold back... just enjoy this." She moaned into his ear.

His hands clawed at her back. At first she wasn't even sure if he wanted to haul her back or push her further into his embrace, but it only took a couple more trusts to know for sure.

The groan started deep in his belly, just like the fire that made his hips jerk up irregularly. His left arm slung low around her waist, dragging her even closer while his right hand crept up her back to come to rest between her naked shoulder-blades and push her aching nipples closer into his still covered torso.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and whimpered her name against her skin, while he started emptying himself inside of her.

Her whole body shook, both from the unreleased buzz still running through her veins as well as from the shock of what had just happened between them. She felt unsatisfied and strange, but it honestly was the best feeling she'd felt in a long while, so without further contemplation about what had just taken place, she squeezed a still trembling Michael tighter into her embrace.

--

Thirty minutes later she was still straddling him, their chests glued together, their heads on each other's shoulder, she looking out in the distance on the right side of the car, he observing the scene on the left, arms wrapped around each other loosely, but still slightly possessive, while his hand mimicked hers in caressing each other's back leisurely.

The atmosphere had turned quiet and tranquil after "the act" had finished, and they hadn't exchanged many words, not even when they'd broken their embrace in the beginning to get rid of the used latex protection and to straighten up their clothes.

She'd seen a few signs then, that even though he'd enjoyed himself he'd felt quite embarrassed for his inexperience and quick release, but she hadn't given the shyness in his heart the time to conquer him again. She hadn't given his self-doubts the chance to think he'd done something wrong, because she'd hugged him close again the minute her bra and shirt were readjusted.

She'd kissed the crook of his neck softly, all the while whispering it was normal for him to have reacted that way, and that he'd made her fly, even though it hadn't lasted more than a minute.

He'd seemed to believe her, because up and until now, they'd relaxed in each other's embrace, stroking each other's back and hair gently, with the only sound between them the occasionally content sigh.

The darkness of the night was slowly giving way to the first shimmering of the sun, illuminating all the car wrecks around them, and with it a certain dread was born into the pit of her stomach.

The sleepiness in her body was chased away by the first beams of light hitting the car dump that surrounded them and with a deep sigh she realized her favorite hideaway in the city, the place where she'd played hide and seek with Katie since forever, the place she'd run too whenever she needed to think or be alone, was now also the place where Michael Scofield had lost his virginity. It had transformed from _her place_ to _their place_ in only a few hours, and she didn't yet know how to feel about that.

"I just hope nobody else has this car dump as a secret hideout to come watch the stars, ... 'cause I bet them binoculars came in handy an hour ago."

She smiled against his shoulder before she lifted herself away from him to meet his slightly sheepish gaze.

"You know, all shyness put aside, you can be a very cheeky young man, Michael." She smirked.

He just shrugged his shoulders a little.

The growing light made it possible to see him better and while the dread started enfolding her whole body, she became awestruck by his beauty. The sleepy eyes, his full lips still slightly swollen from her ravish kisses, the rumbled hair.

The sun was rising fast, indicating she was already going to be home late, and she knew she had to hurry, but try as she may, she couldn't just disconnect from him so sudden.

He frowned when he noticed the growing sadness in her eyes, and when she embraced him tightly once again, he understood they were going to part soon.

"I think I might like you, Michael Scofield." She whispered against his ear, and before he had time to say something back she pushed herself away from him and jumped over the side of the car.

Her legs screamed in protest after having been in the same position for about an hour, but it was the slightly tender feeling between her legs that squeezed her chest hollow and made her wobble on her legs away from the car.

"Wait...what?,... I mean, Sara, wait." She heard his rushed pleas from behind her but she kept distancing herself from Lincoln's car.

"Will I see you on Monday?"

The doubt and vulnerability in his voice made her face contort with pain. How he still could think she would voluntarily ignore him after they'd experienced such a wonderful night together, was beyond her.

She stopped and exhaled slowly while she pushed away the guilt for just one second. With the loveliest look she could muster she turned and faced him.

He'd scooted to the edge of the car-seat, and the hope in his wide eyes nearly broke her heart.

"Michael, the only place I crave to be on Monday is by your side." She whispered, only just loud enough for him to hear.

She was rewarded with the brightest smile she'd ever seen on anybody's face and the sheer beauty of it took her breath away.

She took one last gaze at him and turned back quickly, speeding up her pace while a single tear slipped from her eyes.

She just hoped he would believe her.

-- -- --

It had been 49 hours, 37 minutes and about 20 seconds since he'd seen her form disappear behind a car wreck, and ever since that moment he'd been counting the minutes until their next meeting.

The weekend had been gruesome, but the wait was finally over and only moments after he'd almost parked his bike, with him still on it, underneath a moving car in all his giddiness, he was running down the hallway towards his locker.

The stares were there again, and the whispers too, but today he didn't give a shit. He was a man now, better yet, a man with a plan, and nothing as silly as some pointed fingers could distract him from his plan. _Today, they truly didn't matter. _

He reached his locker in record time, his nimble fingers already forming the lock-combination before he'd even taken the time to catch his breath, but it would have been in vain anyhow, because as soon as his eyes caught the envelope that fell to the ground when opening the metal door, he stopped breathing all together.

Overexcited fingers grabbed it from the ground, ripped the top of the envelope, and took out the first item.

It was a small white card, with a couple of sentences written in a loopy but neat and very girlish handwriting.

_"I figured you needed a new suit to impress those university big shots when you're applying for that scholarship. It's not the most important thing, but it will make a difference. And don't you dare sweat about this. This will not be missed! Not one bit! And I'd rather spend it on you than on the latest Jimmy Choo's. That's right, baby, next to ice cream, shoes are my only other guilty pleasure. Love Sara" _

He didn't dare move, but his adrenaline filled fingers didn't need his permission to pull out the next item.

His mouth fell slack as a cheque addressed to him came into view, and when finally the amount peeked from behind the barrier of the envelope, his back fell against the closed locker next to his, his body no longer capable of carrying his weight alone on his wobbly legs.

Five thousand dollars! She'd written him a cheque for five thousand dollars!

Black spots clouded his vision and he had trouble breathing. Like a zombie he put the card and the cheque back into the envelope and that's when he spotted the third item.

Every fiber in his body came to live when he twirled the red origami rose through his fingers.

'_Be the chance you want to see in the world'_ was written on the inside of the petals and the butterflies roared to live inside his belly. She was nothing less than divine, and with a giddy outburst of laughter he slammed his locker shut and sprinted away to search for her.

He needed to feel her in his arms, he needed to taste her on his lips, and tell her all the synonyms for heavenly, because she truly was nothing less.

--

Fifteen minutes later the silly smile had long vanished from his face. Trembling lips had taken its place, accompanied by watery eyes, and an irreparably broken heart.

People were buzzing around him trying to get to their class-room in time, since the first warning bell had already ringed.

"I'm sorry, Michael, but I have to go now."

He didn't notice the sympathy in her voice, nor did he feel her soothing squeeze of his lower arm before she left. He didn't notice anything.

Soon the silence of the hallway enveloped his frozen body, but he didn't care, because the only thing he heard were the devastating words Katie had delivered to him minutes earlier.

_She's gone, Michael._

_Her parents were called back on a mission to Darfour._

_She's gone with them. _

_A year and a half at least, maybe even longer._

_She left on Saturday morning. _

She'd lied to him, she'd known all along she wouldn't see him again.

Had it all been lies? Had she just messed with his head? Was this all still part of the prank they'd played on him?

Suddenly it felt like dozens of knifes were sliding into his flesh from every angle, and he barely managed to stumble to the restroom in time where he started to heave up his breakfast.

After he stopped vomiting, he locked the cubicle where he sat on the ground and leaned back against the closed door. His shoulders started to shake uncontrollably and he had to bite his fist to keep his sobs from resonating into the room.

Had he been nothing than a game to her?

Logically his mind knew that she couldn't have played it all. Her laughter had been too happy and unbridled, her moans too throaty, but his fragile heart was too broken to convince right now.

His chest squeezed tight with hurt, as he realized that he had been right all along.

The truth was yet again shoved into his face, that love wasn't meant for him. He had nothing to offer and ultimately he couldn't blame them for not wanting to be his friend.

No, the truth had yet again been made perfectly clear, and leaning against the closed door of a restroom stall, seated on the grimy floor in front of the toilet he'd just puked in, with sobs racking his tired body, seventeen year old Michael felt nothing more than utterly l_ost_.

* * *

Okay, babes! This one was long, some scene-setting and back-ground information was needed, but the other three parts are way shorter. So stay tuned for their ten year high-school reunion this weekend. And expect Michael to have gained some major confidence and to have learned some 'nifty' new tricks, if you know what I mean. wiggles eyebrows suggestively. Oh, Sara won't know what hit her.

Michael's and Sara's first kiss was loosely based on this (/watch?vqhzEzaYXxdo) . Truly one of the greatest "first kisses" ever, with the music and all, from a movie that still sees the inside of my dvd-player regularly whenever I feel nostalgic. WATTS RULES! Who else wanted to be a drummer when they saw this opening scene (/watch?vR1dHOg4-esw&featurerelated) over and over again? "You look good wearing my future!" (melts)

Anyhow, apart from expressing your love for classic John Hughes' movies, feel free to let me know where I made your toes curl with brain-dead typos or where I ass-raped the English language so much you want to ban me from this site.

Peace out, sisters

X Mikey


	2. At Twenty seven, part A

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

CIAO BELLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey duckies! I'm back amongst the living, YAY!!!!

I kinda forgot I had the story on this site too *looks sheepish*

So yes, the good thing about that is, that in the next few days you'll get 2 more chapters from me, and If I'll find the time, I'll finish this next week.

A great big cuddle to the six people who gave the most precious gift: taking the time to leave a review.

Dear Emily, prongsette, Something wikid, Chinadollcjo, 83cc4, xxclois-loverxx. THANK YOU SO MUCH! Getting reviews is the thing that motivates me to keep doing this. Without them I would have long stopped, so pat yourself on the back, because this chapter is partly because of YOU!

Again unbeta-ed so let me know about inexcusable or distracting faults.

Enjoy poezeminnekes!

MIAUW!

X Mie

* * *

**Chapter Two: At twenty-seven (part A)**

At twenty-seven Michael seemed _lost_.

That was the only word appropriate to use for the way he'd been feeling for the last twenty minutes while wrecking his wardrobe.

Several suit-jackets and trousers lay strewn untidily on his king-sized bed, while the ground of his bedroom was littered with dozens of different socks and ties. He cringed at the uncharacteristic mess he was making, but the feeling was soon being overridden by a deep sense of uneasiness, drawing his full attention back to the clothes-rack in front of him.

He yanked off _yet another_ dress-shirt to try on, and thirty seconds and one glimpse in the mirror later, he threw _yet another_ shirt on the ground, where it piled up on top of all the other shirts that didn't _feel right_ for this occasion.

He sighed in frustration before going back into his wardrobe to scan the rapidly diminishing number of clothes that were still hanging, and when he saw the twenty pairs of polished shoes sitting neatly on the rack, he couldn't hold in the agonizing groan any longer.

He hadn't even touched the shoes yet!

Oh, he could be considered vain regarding his appearance. Not excessively so, but enough for Lincoln to tease him about. But, as one of the city's most known and requested structural engineers, he was required to look on top of his game. Heck, he worked for the president, he simply _needed_ to look 'sharp'.

These were the reasons he offered to Lincoln every time he tried to defend why he spend so much time getting ready, but just like his brother, he didn't buy any of them.

Yes, part of it was because of his job, but most of it he just liked looking good. He liked how everybody's head shot up when he walked into a meeting, he liked how their eyes slightly widened when they saw him, and he liked that somehow, through the clothes, they were in awe of him, respected him and even feared him before he'd even uttered a single word.

He wasn't arrogant, far from it, although he had been told he had every reason to be: the skills, the looks, the brains, and the money. But these Gucci-suits and Armani-sunglasses, everything in this wardrobe, was part of that one guilty pleasure he indulged in: he loved looking good.

However, deep down he knew there was a slight nuance to that truth, simply that he loved _**being able**_ to look good. He loved to shove it in _their_ faces that they weren't the only one, that he'd made it nonetheless, despite people like them, and most of all he wanted to prove that he'd done it without loosing his soul and turning into a vile creature like most of them were.

A sudden chill made him shiver and made his thoughts wonder back to the problem at hand. He looked down, seeing nothing but the stiff nipples, the goose-bumps and the half-soaked towel slung low around his hips, and with a heavy sigh he stepped out of his wardrobe and sagged down in defeat at the end of his bed's mattress.

This was getting ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago he'd stepped into his bedroom refreshed, with skin deliciously heated from the shower, and now he was a nervous wreck with skin as cold as a corpse. Why the heck was this so difficult?

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the invitation on his bedside table, the big and shiny gold letters giving him an instant headache. _**Welcome back, Seniors! It's been a decade!**_

He'd been giddy all week, his usual 'calm and collect' behaviour mercilessly beaten down by the nervous butterflies in his stomach, and despite the fact he'd tried to ignore it vigorously, he knew deep down it had everything to do with that card, with this night, the ten year reunion of a night he both loved and hated, a night that had changed his life.

Tonight he would travel back in time, to the same gymnasium, to the same people, to being seventeen all over again, but it honestly felt like he was already there. His personal assistant Pamela had once called him the epitome of grace but today she'd forced him to go home early with this motherly "Good lord, _whatever_ am I going to do with _you_?"- look on her face. He'd certainly deserved that look, after spilling coffee all over his shirt, misplacing important documents and messing up her carefully arranged filing-system whilst day-dreaming, and stubbing his knee against the side of her desk while he was pacing in front of her with NO reason what so ever.

He'd felt clumsy all day, a feeling he wasn't used to anymore, a sensation he'd last felt when he was a teenager, so many years back.

His hands rose to his face to massage his temples in a desperate act to rub his anxiousness away but as expected it didn't work. It even seemed to enhance the itchiness in his blood. All of a sudden there was no going back. Tonight he would face his demons, he would face Logan and her minions, and he would face the few who could be considered friends from the science and math club, and maybe, just maybe, he would face _**her**_.

His hands dropped from his face, as if they'd been burned and his head shot up like lightning when the core of his inner turmoil was finally revealed. He'd tried to ignore it, desperately refusing to think of _her_ all week, but ever since he'd gotten that invitation two month earlier those long lost memories of their night together had awoken in his soul, and the last week they'd replayed in front of his eyes constantly, like it had only happened yesterday.

After not thinking off her for many years, he'd been shocked by how vivid his recollection of that night was, and against his better judgement in, his mind had been racked by questions about her.

_What was she doing now? Was she married? Would she be there? Would she look the same? Would she still remember him? _

And even though he knew he was setting himself up for a fall, because she seemed the only woman capable of truly breaking his heart, he couldn't help wonder about the possibility, that maybe, in another life, they could have made it work.     

With a stubborn shake of his head he tried to chastise himself, stopping his dangerous train of thoughts and quelling the sudden bout of poisonous hope in the pit of his stomach. That ship had long sailed and it would do him no good suddenly pondering the _What ifs_ of it.

But despite of his own mental rebuke, his eyes still travelled to the large open walk-in wardrobe in front of him where they landed on that one special suit, hanging all the way in the back in a plastic cover.

1234 dollars he'd spent on that beige suit, custom-made and fitting him to a tee. It was dated now, but ten years back, it had been made to impress, which it had.   

He still remembered what every single penny of her money had been spent on. 358 dollars for the shoes, 184 dollars for the sophisticated watch, 982 dollars for those "believe in yourself" group-therapy sessions Lincoln had forced him to go to, 1745 dollars for a brand new IBM computer and printer, 15 for a hair-cut, 67 for his transportation-fares to all of the major universities in the city.  307 dollars on several presents for his brother, and the rest on an obnoxiously expensive dinner when they'd finally gotten the conformation letter of his acceptance in Chigago's Loyola University on a full scholarship.

He would never know for sure, but he was convinced that she was the reason he had become the successful man he was today. Their time together had only lasted a night, but the impact of it had held a life-changing quality.

The money, had given him opportunities of which he only could have dreamed off, and with a sudden shallowness in his breathing he remembered how he'd almost thrown away those opportunities in that first week after prom-night.  

He'd been inconsolable in that first week, truly devastated by what had happened on that night, his low self-worth and doubts infecting his mind with lies about her honesty. He'd made himself physically sick with thoughts about how they'd all played him and how she had been the most cruel of them all, making him want her so much, and making him believe she cared, while it was still all part of the prank.

After a week of hibernating in his gloomy room and losing a considerable amount of weight Lincoln had dragged his sorry ass out of bed and force-fed him some blueberry pancakes. He felt better immediately, not because of the pancakes, those had actually made him feel quite queasy being the first solid food he'd eaten in days, but the vanilla-scented envelope Lincoln had thrown next to his plate as soon as it was empty, had flooded his whole body with warmth and excitement.

Gone were the feelings of gloom and despair, gone was the miserable look on his face, and instead he almost killed his brother by smothering him with a hug as soon as he realised _**she**_ had written the letter.

He'd read that letter so many times in the weeks to come, that even now, ten years later, the words were still imprinted in his mind.

_... I'm so truly sorry I had to lie to you, but I didn't want the amazing night we'd spent together to be tainted by my departure ..._

_... I don't know why, 'cause we really don't know each other, but I'm missing you already, Michael. I miss you so much I even want this plane to have problems so it needs, like, an emergency landing, so it has to turn back to Chigago. Euhm, maybe I shouldn't jinx the plane while we're still flying, huh ..._

_... Don't be scared of Logan and her Gremlins, deep down she's just an empty little girl who will disappear in the world after high school, you, on the other hand are a man now! A man indeed! No pun intended! And oh boy, my dad is giving me the evil eye 'cause I'm all blushing and sighing and stuff. I definitely shouldn't sit next to my dad while I'm thinking of you and how you made me feel in that car. Damn ..._

_... I'm counting on you to become the astonishing man I see in you ..._

_... It was real, Michael, you and me... It is real ..._

He'd laughed and cried while reading her letter, it's bittersweet aftertaste making him both love and hate it. He'd still been heartbroken, even more so after reading her words, because they'd proved she was every bit of wonderful he'd imagined her to be, and that made the loss of her even more heart-wrenching. But it had given him hope too and courage to take on the world and make her and Lincoln proud of him.

The loud beeping of his cell-phone shook him out of his reverie, and one glance at his bedside clock made him frown in frustration. Another ten minutes had past. Soon his brother would arrive and if Lincoln would see the state he was in, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

He rose from the mattress, and grabbed his phone to see his text-message. He frowned when the name of his assistant flashed on the screen. Had something gone wrong at the office?

_"Hon, stop hyperventilating & breathe 4 a sec, everything's gonna be OK. Wear the grey 1, you know, the 1 I always tell you that makes me want to pounce on you if I were 20 years younger. White shirt, no tie, leave the top unbuttoned, & maybe that thin black leather belt. Just make sure you keep your arms open any moment, 'cause she's gonna swoon right into them. Hope your late on Monday! X Pam"   _

A quiet chuckle left his mouth while his lips lifted into a smile for the first time that day. Pamela, his first and if it was up to him last assistant, a 48 year-old kick-ass woman who'd quickly taken on the roll of a surrogate mother too and who truly was nothing but a life-saver!

He glanced into the adjoining room and sure enough there it still hung, the suit she was talking about. A sudden feeling of calmness spread in his chest, indicating his search was over, and powered by gratefulness his nimble fingers started to type.

"I love you, Misses Seal! You know that, right? Expect the biggest bouquet of flowers on your desk by Monday!"

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

They were late, monumentally so, which normally would have already made him throw a hissy-fit on such an important night like tonight, but luckily he knew his brother well, so he'd actually incorporated this loss of time in his schedule of the evening.

As if on cue his doorbell rang, and while trying to hide his smirk he approached the door. They didn't know he still had time. Maybe he should make them sweat a little, especially his brother, because no doubt on his mind Lincoln was the reason for their tardiness.

Taking a deep breath he plastered the most panicky look he could muster on his face and flung the door open like a man possessed. He literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face when his eyes fell on  the faces of his sheepish looking brother and his girlfriend.

"We're late! I know. Bro, but I swear it wasn't our fault..."

"We're so so sorry, but Linc had this thing, and well, the thing couldn't wait..."

Both Lincoln and Jane started to ramble at the same time, their eager and nervous apologies mingling together in a incomprehensible mess of words.

Michael kept the panic in his eyes for another two seconds before he turned his attention to Jane with a gentle smile and gave her an appreciative once-over.

He grabbed her hand and placed a chivalrous kiss on it. "You look absolutely stunning."

He saw her eyes widen slightly and heard the words of apology die on her lips before a very uncharacteristic blush started spreading on her face, while Lincoln just frowned and looked at his watch suspiciously before giving him the 'Evil Eye'.

Michael felt his smile grow as he saw his squinting brother trying to put two and two together, but ignored it as he turned to the table next to the door and grabbed for the single red rose.

"This is for you, Madame." He offered smoothly, while Lincoln rolled his eyes next to them.

He wasn't quite sure because he'd never seen her do it, but for a moment there, Jane seemed to swoon.

It made him smile even brighter. Jane just _didn't _swoon.

It took her another moment to get her bearings and then she turned towards Lincoln with an angry scowl marring her face.

"Why can't _you_ be more like your brother!"

Michael smirked seeing his brother's eyes widen in panic while he squeaked out a choked "What?"

"But... But..., babe... HE MOISTURIZES!"

Michael was enjoying the scene in front of him way too much to be offended by Lincoln's lame attempt at defending himself, and by the looks of it the feisty blonde between them wasn't impressed, either.

"As should you!"

Jane faced him again and winked at him in a manner that Lincoln couldn't see, before she caressed his cheek briefly.

"His skin is as soft as a baby, while yours can be used as sandpaper."

Lincoln's accusing eyes fell on him, making Michael raise his hands and eyebrows as a peace-sign quickly, indicating he had nothing to do with it.

"I told you before how beautiful you looked."  Lincoln defended himself again, this time a little better, his pleading eyes back on his girlfriend, but she didn't seem satisfied at all.

"Linc, _Sweetie_, telling me 'my sexy ass makes you so hard all you want to do is rip that flimsy piece of a dress from my body before you fuck my brains out against the kitchen-wall' is not the same as telling me I look beautiful."

Michael's eyebrows rose to his hairline, amused by how quickly the 'swooning' Jane had disappeared.

"Well, _Sweetie ._.." Lincoln retorted sarcastically "I didn't hear you complaining thirty minutes ago... while I was doing just THAT!"

The last thing Michael saw before he closed his eyes in mock disgust was Jane punching Lincoln's arm hard.

He tried to block out Lincoln's pained cry and Jane's squealed 'I can't believe you just said that, Jerk!' but unfortunately the image of them copulating against the kitchen-wall was already being projected against his closed eye-lids.

When he opened them again, the couple before him had come to realise they weren't alone in the room and they had the decency to look sheepish.

"We're sorry we're late..." They whispered simultaneously.

The puppy-dog quality in their guilty faces made him chuckle out loud, and while he ushered them out of his apartment he enjoyed the warmth spreading in his chest. How he loved them dearly.

Two minutes later the elevator had just started his descent when Lincoln broke the comfortable silence between them.

"Tell me again why I'm lending out my girlfriend to be your prom-date..."

The last word put Michael on edge immediately.

"She's not my prom-date, Linc, it's a reunion... and... and I just didn't want to go stag." He answered in defence.

Lincoln didn't seem to notice the uneasiness in his voice and kept pushing.

"But why not take some girl from your office, or that Melissa chick that's been calling you. Buddy, they're lining up for you, but you're not giving them any chance. Don't tell me you're still pining over Jenny. That's been like ... a year, ... and I thought _you_ broke it off with _her_."

For a moment Michael's eyes bore into the lightning panel of their elevator, wishing it to go faster, because he wasn't in the mood to tackle this with Lincoln tonight, but seeing how slow the light-bulbs were changing and knowing how stubborn his brother could be, he knew it would be futile to try and steer away from this subject.

"It's been five months, not a year, and yes, I broke it off, you know that, Linc. In the end we weren't right for each other. Doesn't mean I need to search for another girlfriend right away."

Jenny had been great. He'd loved her with all his heart, just like Nicola before her and just like Nika in college, but in the end he always found something wrong with it, like something was missing, something essential.

"I'm not forcing you to get a long-time girlfriend here, Michael, but why didn't you just ask someone out on a date. Just a fling, that way you could be having a perfect night. Free booze _ánd_ meaningless sex!"

The questioning look on his brother's face told him Lincoln really had a hard time fathoming why he could waste such a perfect opportunity, and when he saw Jane roll her eyes annoyingly at her boyfriend's shallowness he realised he could end this discussing with some kind of witty remark about beer or sex, but deep in his stomach long lost feelings of humiliation and horror stirred and suddenly he needed his brother to understand.

"Linc, ... that night, ... you know I..." Why did he feel so vulnerable all of a sudden?

"I need someone around me I can trust, ... someone I know will have my back ..." He finished softly.

Realisation dawned on his brother's face and his eyes grew soft while he squeezed the nape of Jane's neck gently. "Well, then you have chosen the right woman, man."  

Michael knew those words had double meaning. Jane was a cop and had a black belt in karate, so she was quite able to throw a punch or two, but on top of that she knew him well, having been one of Michael's best friends before she even met Lincoln, so he knew she would defend him with all her might.

Not that he couldn't stand up for himself, but for some unfathomable reason he was scared shitless of the confrontations that awaited him this night, and knowing she would be right next to him, comforted him a little.

He felt Jane squeeze his forearm reassuringly, and suddenly it made him careless, and spill out more than he was willing to share.

"And I really don't want the hassle of a date.. 'cause maybe,... I mean, I know it's not realistic, but ..., huhm, maybe she's there and well, ... yeah, huh... maybe she wants ... to talk... you know." It had been ages since he'd last faltered so much and as soon as he saw his brother's eyes widen in understanding, he wished he could take back his words.

"Michael.." His brother's voice held a quiet warning but he didn't give Lincoln the time to finish.

"Just forget it, Linc." He sighed deeply, cursing himself under his breath for having let this conversation go so far, but unfortunately Lincoln didn't give in so easily.

"It's been ten years, bro"

"I know." His gaze fell to the floor in defeat.

"We've been over this before."

"I know." The growing uneasiness in his body was making his fingers tap against the side of his leg restlessly.

Lincoln, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil, continued without wasting any breath. "It's not healthy to keep hoping for something that won't ever happen."

"I KNOW, OK!" The loudness of his voice surprised even him, but when he saw the worried and slightly shocked faces of his companions, his anger vanished as quickly as it had come.  

"I'm sorry." He breathed guiltily, "I just need you to understand, Linc, that I'm clear on that. I don't expect her to come running into my arms so we can live happily ever after. Just trust me, okay. Heck, she'll probably not even be there. It's just,... it would be nice to talk to her, you know, to say thank you, without interruptions,... if I get the chance."

Lincoln looked at him sceptically, not quite believing the words he'd just heard, and with concern lacing his every word he uttered his opinion.

"It's just, ... Michael, ... I worry, okay. You were so hung up on her that first year, waiting for her to come back, and when she didn't, you were so heartbroken. And, though, I know you did alright after that, I can't help to think, that somehow she was part of the reason why you broke up with your girlfriends in the past."

"She wasn't!" Michael practically screamed his protest. He hadn't even thought of her the last few years, so she couldn't be.

"She wasn't!" He repeated again, a little softer this time. She really wasn't.

Was she?

The headache that had started earlier that evening, fired up inside his skull, and with sluggish fingers he rubbed his suddenly tired eyes.

He heard Jane's soft whisper asking his brother to give him a break, but that almost seemed like an impossible thing to do right now when those two words kept reverberated in his head like a broken record.

Was she? Was she? Was she? Was she?

Luckily Lincoln had given in to Jane's request and when he felt the cool summer's air clash against his face minutes later, he actually felt he could breathe again. For a minute there, the calming evening breeze even made him forget about Lincoln's stubbornness, but as usual he didn't have to wait long for it all to come crashing down.

"No!"

Michael saw Jane stop dead in her tracks a few feet in front of him, upon hearing her lover's voice. He however, continued walking.

"NO!"

He'd tried to ignore it the first time, but now he stopped walking too and turned around to see his brother had long halted his steps behind them.

The anxiety on Lincoln's face told Michael he'd completed his own trip down memory lane to that night and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to hug him.

Lincoln started to pace in front of them, his voice strong and hopeful. "Let's just forget about the reunion, guys. It's gonna be lame and suck, so why go? Let's just go out and do something else, the three of us. Just the three of us. We can built our own party. My treat."

The mix of hope and fear in Lincoln's wide eyes, made Michael cringe, but it proved all the more, that this was something from their past they both still had to come to terms with.

"No" He denied Lincoln softly while he dropped his gaze to the ground, unable to watch the growing despair in his older sibling's eyes.

He heard rather than saw Lincoln skip the distance between them eagerly, until he felt the strong grip of a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Mikey, this is gonna be so much fun. Just don't go, OK. " The anxiousness in his brother's voice almost disarmed him.

"Linc." He breathed softly, his gaze rising to connect with the panicking eyes in front of him.

With a loud swear Lincoln started to pace again, now right in front of him.

"Fuck! I don't like this. Fuck, Michael. You've accomplished so much. People respect you, man, they fear you, you can make them eat out of the palm of your hand, without having to do anythin'. Your eyes can bore into people and make them crumble in defeat or swoon or hell, freakin' come, both women ánd men, just by the power you're radiating. But back there, in the elevator, I saw you more vulnerable and unsure about yourself than I've seen in ten years. You went from confident to teenage Michael in one second flat and fuck, I hate that. I hate that they still seem to have some kind of power over you. And shit, hell will freeze over before I will let them hurt you again."

His brother's passionate monologue should have rendered him defeated but instead he felt the strangest bout of confidence spreading throughout his body.

Suddenly he felt stronger than he'd felt all week. How could he honestly not? With such a great and caring team behind him. So with straightened shoulders and his head held up high he tried to stop the manic pacing of his brother before him.

"Linc..."

The pacing continued, the frown still very much present on Lincoln's face.

"No Michael, I'm serious. I'm just gonna call Teddy and Sucre to meet us down-town and then we're gonna party like..."

"Linc"

Lincoln's pacing came to an abrupt halt when a soft but firm grip fell on his shoulder, forcing him to look in the gentle eyes of his baby brother.

 "Remember that night, when you told me to go anyway and stand up to them, show them they hadn't broken me..."

Lincoln frowned deeper, but nodded his head softly.

"I wasn't ready then..." Michael whispered softly, never breaking eye-contact, "But I am now! ... More than ready, and I need you to believe that.

He hoped that the gentle squeeze in his brother's shoulder and the honesty in his gaze would be enough to quell Lincoln's fears.

"I need to face them all tonight, Linc, the good as well as the bad, but I can't do it without your support. Are you with me on this?"

A little emotional blackmail had never hurt anyone, right?

There was a considerate amount of silence before Lincoln's mumbled "I'm with you" reached Michael's ears. He recognised the annoyance in his brother's tone, Lincoln didn't like to give in, but it still made him grin slowly.  He really felt ready to do this, and it only had taken him a week of nervous clumsiness and the worried look in his brother's eyes to figure it out.

Seeing the sombre look hadn't completely vanished from his brother's face, he tried to lighten up the mood.

"Hey, and just remember, I've got Robocop here with me. If anyone tries to get to me, she'll just tackle them and kick them in the crotch."

It was apparent that Lincoln still wasn't quite happy with the situation, but he chuckled softly anyhow at the image Michael had suggested.

Jane, who'd come to stand between them, gave them both a kiss on the cheek before she looped each of her arms through one of theirs and started to drag them to the car.

"That's right! You bet your ass I will! ... But boys, .... now it's time to get this party started."

When they reached his classic Mustang cabriolet, they disconnected from each other and he walked to the driver's seat, but Lincoln stopped him in his tracks just before he could enter the car. He mumbled something about Michael's collar not being straight and started to smooth down the fabric. It made Michael's eyes sting with unshed tears, because he knew perfectly well there was nothing wrong with his collar.

His older brother was stalling, but seeing the uneasiness in Lincoln's eyes grow anew, Michael didn't mind this at all. Thirty seconds of 'not necessary collar-smoothing' later, Lincoln awkwardly stepped back from him, not quite able to meet his eyes. But Michael would have none of it, instead crushing him to his chest in a hug immediately, wrinkling up his suit more than could ever be smoothed out. But he didn't care, because he felt his brother's arms squeeze around him in a death grip, while they both let out the deepest sigh against each other's neck, like they both had been holding their breath.

"Be careful."

And then the pressure around his chest was gone.

It took him a moment to recover and when he saw Lincoln approach Jane, to then tenderly caress her cheek and whisper how beautiful she looked in a very rare display of vulnerable affection between the couple, he realised once more how emotionally shaken this evening had made them all.

It made the drive in his veins power up even more. He would show them all! Once and for all! To make his family proud, and to finally be able to put this all behind him.

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

Michael closed his eyes in contentment and breathed in deeply, the faint whiff of vanilla calming him even more.

So far the evening had been going great. After the initial nervousness when entering the gymnasium earlier that night, he'd calmed down a great deal, and to his own amazement he'd been acting at the top of his game ever since. He'd been smooth, confident, and charming while reacquainting with his few forgotten friends and their partners, and he'd actually felt comfortable throughout the evening. He was also very pleased to see, that some of the once shallower 'popular' kids had grown up to become pleasant and intelligent adults, who seemed in all honesty very interested in his life and accomplishments.

Of course, he hadn't had a run in with any of Logan's crew, but right now, while swaying softly to the band's music, he couldn't care less.

The soft giggle from the woman in his arms made him open his eyes again, and while caressing the small of her back softly, he breathed down her hair.

"What?"

He felt her shake her head, indicating it was nothing, before she rested it once more against his shoulder.

The soft and sensual rhythm of the music carried on, but when he heard Jane giggle again after drifting along the dance-floor a little more, his curiosity got the better of him.  

"What?" He asked again, this time a little louder, while he squeezed their joint hands that lay against his chest, so she would look at him.

She lifted her head and looked up at him with shinny eyes that were unable to hide the delight in them.

"Mike, thank you sooooo much for taking me to this. I'm so enjoying all those nasty looks that are being thrown my way."

He frowned down at her. Nasty looks? But he hadn't heard any sign of sarcasm in her tone, so whatever it was, she really was enjoying herself.

She must have noticed the question in his eyes, because she started to elaborate immediately. 

"You know, ... the 'Oh my god, I can't believe how freaking hot he got, and now _that tramp_ has her arms around him instead of me'- nasty glares."

He kept on frowning a little.

"They're just mocking stares, Jane, they used to stare all the time when I entered, I guess, some of them really didn't mature at all. I'm over it, but I'm sorry you have to go through this. We can go, if you want."

He felt the pressure of her hand on his neck increase, while she started to draw little patterns on his skin, and with a growing grin she addressed him.

"Michael, every new fact you tell me about your time in high-school makes me want to travel back in time and kick them all to an inch of their life, but trust me, sweetie, these or not stares of mock or disdain or anything like that. These are stares of lust, and jealousy and 'fuck, I want him to rip off my dress and take me like a beast on the middle of the dance-floor."

His eyes had widened throughout her little speech and he couldn't help the high pitch from entering his voice. "Like a beast?"

Jane just nodded while she wiggled her eye-brows suggestively.

"Like a wild, untamed beast, Michael! You're the talk of the eve, baby. And I'm quite sure that article in Newsweek with you and the president is hidden in a few of those ladies' bedside table, so they can take a peek at your face before they go to sleep at night. Insert Instant-Steamy-Michael-Scofield-dreams. Yowza!"

He grinned at her enthusiasm while the heat of a sudden blush was warming up his cheeks. "I must say, my brother is having such a bad influence on you, but seriously Jane, I think you're reading too much into this."

"Too much? TOO much?" Her squeal only seemed to strengthen the incredulity shining in her eyes.

"Michael, you're a freaking Einstein most of the times, but I'm with Lincoln on this one. Sometimes you really can be as daft as an ass. Seriously, you have to be, if you can't decipher the atmosphere in this place. The minute you walked in, the male half of this room wanted you dead because you are sweeter, smarter, more successful, and let's not forget, royally hotter than them and the female half just wanted you nekkid and thrusting above them as soon as possible."

He batted his eye-lids shyly, a little gobsmacked by what Jane was implying. She just giggled at the redness in his cheeks, before giving him a sweet kiss on one of them and hugging him tight.

"You're shoving it..." she whispered against his ear "In their face,... BIG TIME! And they're already kicking themselves harder than I ever could, for treating you so bad back then."

For a minute her giggles got the better of her again but then she finished with a statement that had him slightly worried, if not intrigued.

"And now... I'm gonna do some shoving of my own..."

She pressed her chest a little closer to his, and he felt some movement and then his eyes widened in surprise.

He turned his face until his lips touched the crown of her head, seemingly placing a kiss there.

"Can I ask WHY exactly your hands are on my buttocks, Madame? Not that I mind all that much, but I'd like to have an answer ready, for when my brother is coming to lynch me." He murmured against her hair.

She only squeezed his ass a little tighter, making him press that much closer into her.

"Oh, don't be a party pooper now, Michael. We both know, Lincoln will love this. And hey, I came without complaints. You owe me, buddy!"

She had a point.

"Just look at all those faces. Please look past the charade, and tell me you see all those bulging eyes. Please?"

He discreetly watched the people around him, and sure enough, for the first time, he noticed them, both the aroused as the envious gazes, and they made his chest bubble with happiness. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined _he_ would have _that _effect on his class-mates, and although he knew it was quite shallow of him, he enjoyed every last one of those gazes.

All of a sudden Jane turned her head and attacked his neck with butterfly kisses. It tickled and made him squirm while he flashed all of his teeth in the widest smile and a sexy rumble of laughter escaped his chest.

Still laughing he brought his hand to the back of her head, to make her stop. To onlookers it would seem like he was pushing her closer. His joyful eyes fell on a duo of beautiful women not far from them and his LLI, not always a curse, painted him a clear picture of them in only one second. One had her drink frozen only inches from her mouth, her lips hanging slack in, could it be, desire. And the other was gripping her friend's forearm until her knuckles turned white, while she licked her lips as if dying of thirst.

Had his laughter really done that?

He almost snorted at the weird reality. He, a sex symbol, desired by the cheerleaders, and feared by the jocks. Oh, Lincoln was not going to believe this.

Apparently Jane had seen the duo too, because she did snort against his neck.

"Oh god, this is better than cable tv."

He laughed again, thankful for her presence, and placed a kiss on top of her head. He felt happy and content, though slightly disappointed too. If only _she_ had been here too, to make it all complete. But it was already past ten and she hadn't shown, so tonight would hold no closure on 'their' relationship.

The reality that he wouldn't see her pained him more than he liked to admit, but he wouldn't let it spoil his evening. He just hugged Jane a little tighter, with laughter still on his lips, but with the weight of disappointment squeezing his chest tight.

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

He was waiting at the bar to order his drinks when it finally happened. One minute he was leisurely leaning against the bar's tablet, observing the people through tranquil eyes, until the waiter would arrive, and the next he was grabbing the barstool behind him for dear life, suddenly afraid he would tumble to ground out of shock without it.

She was here! SHE WAS HERE!

The group of women next to him had seen her come in and were talking about her.

He tried to get closer to them without them noticing which wasn't as easy as it sounded, on his suddenly trembling legs and with his heart beating a mile a minute preparing his body to faint any second, but he managed to get to the stool nearest to them and set on it with his back to them. What he heard next, however, made his body turn cold.

"Oh my god, did you see how fucked up she looked? She looks like death run her over... twice!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

"What? You aren't blind, right? The bags under her eyes, the dull hair, that dress. I think she might have robbed a homeless chick to get that dress. I'm actually quite surprised she dared to show up here like that."

"Oh, you're just jealous 'cause she's skinnier than you."

"Honey, you have skinny, and then you have _that_. It's scary. I bet she lost so much weight from the stress, from being every body's pet in jail."

"What? She did time? You serious?"

"Mmmmhh mmm, driving under influence and being in the possession of illegal substances. She's high as a kite, that one."

"Weren't her parents killed in that civil war mess a couple of years back, in Kenya, or Congo, or someplace like that. That really must have done a number on her."

"Word is, they were executed right before her eyes. I wonder why they spared her. Might as well shot her too, 'cause she looks like a corpse."

"Oh, you're such a bitch."

He almost heaved hearing their high pitched giggles, and with great difficult he made his trembling legs walk away until he leant his suddenly deadweight body against the far end wall of the gymnasium in a secluded spot. The nauseating feeling in his stomach remained and he felt the pressure of unshed tears at the back of his eyes.

How could grown up people ever be so cruel? It was beyond him. And the nasty and casual way they'd talked about her, without giving her the chance to defend herself, felt like a knife-stab through the heart. Tonight he'd let himself believe that people could change, change for the better. That they could recognise the faults they made as a kid, and make amends for it.

But moments ago, at twenty-seven Michael finally learned the truth that it was all an illusion.

Teenager could be cruel, but this, two grown-ups, gossiping so cruelly about something so horribly, was something he couldn't even comprehend.    

But ultimately, it weren't the women who'd almost made him puke, right there next to them. It was the fact that such a beautiful and free spirit like _her_ had been crippled by such a past. Ten years ago she'd seemed like the most exquisite flower, ready to bloom to the fullest and touch everyone around her with her beauty, but now, it seemed that only decayed thorns remained. He knew about her parents' passing five years back. It was the only time he'd tried to contact her, but all his attempts had been met by a dead-end. But he didn't know about the drugs, or the alcohol, or the imprisonment, or whatever more.

His heart just soared thinking about what sadness and horror most have tainted her life these past years, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hold her.

With power he didn't know he possessed he pushed his still shaky legs into motion, and soon he was pushing himself through crowds of people, mumbling soft apologies while his eyes never stopped scanning the place from top to bottom.

Ten minutes later his movements had become frantic. He'd scanned the gymnasium thoroughly three times over, and he hadn't seen her, nobody had, because after the first round he'd decided to ask people about her. He'd tried to play it cool and not come off like a desperate lunatic who was chasing her, but soon he'd started speed walking too, and if nothing else, that considerably lessened his chance at being discreet.  

But he didn't care. He needed to find her. Every fibre in his body was screaming out for her, so loud it physically hurt, and he just needed her close, because she was the only one who would be capable of quelling the sudden anxiety in his veins.

He pushed through a small crowd, bumping against a man's drink in the process, making the liquor spill on the floor. He turned his head a little, apologising profusely, even as he didn't stop walking away, but with his gaze still trained on the man behind him he slammed into another person even harder.

The impact of it made him wobble on his legs, and they both grabbed on to each other to steady themselves, but as he was about to release her and part from her with a fleeting apology thrown over his shoulder, the smell of her invaded his nostrils.

It made him freeze over completely. He would recognise that smell everywhere, even after ten years.

And if the sweetest whiffs of lavender weren't enough to convince him, hearing her soft voice would be, the voice that was now uttering apologies for bumping in to him.

Her voice, however, died on her lips moments later, but he wasn't sorry, because her mouth opening slightly in shock and eye-contact with the biggest chocolate eyes he'd ever seen, replaced that voice.

For a moment time seemed to stand still. The only thing moving, their wildly beating hearts and widening eyes as memories of their last encounter washed over both of them, but it didn't last long before everything speeded up again as if someone had hit the 'forward button' on the dvd-player.

He barely had time to register the high-pitched squeal of his name that left her mouth, before her warm body collided with his again as she threw herself in his arms. He hadn't expected this kind of reunion after ten years, so to say he was shocked was an understatement, but nevertheless it didn't make him falter, because his arms were squeezing around her only a fraction of a second later after feeling her arms go around his neck.

He didn't care that they were in the middle of the gymnasium and that surely there would be prying eyes, he didn't care that this kind of reunion was reserved for the bests of friends, not for stranger who'd only spent one night together. No, the only thing he cared about was the desperate way she clung to his neck, a grip that was almost as suffocating as his dead-squeeze around her chest. The only thing he cared about was the touch of her hot breath against the side of his ear as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, almost in the same manner as he snuggled his face in her shoulder, burying his nose in her shoulder length hair and inhaling as if this was the last breath he would ever take.

"It's so good to see you." was mumbled against the side of his face, and since his voice seem to be paralysed the only thing he could do was squeezing her even closer to himself, almost lifting her from the ground in the process.

In a dream-world he would never let go of her ever again, but unfortunately reality came back crashing all over them rapidly, and with reluctance making his arms go heavy they parted from their embrace. He kept her close, however, not willing to step more than a feet away from her.

The shock of seeing her moments earlier had been too great to take her all in, but now that his senses seemed to have calmed down a little he took the time to look at the woman he'd missed for so long.

The vibrant red and long curls had been replaced by dark shoulder-length unruly locks. The healthy blush was gone from her skin, making her face look ghostly, ashen even, and the dark circles under her eyes and dullness in her gaze had chased away the sparkle that once shone there.

The loss of weight was noticeable, making her look fragile and broken instead of the strong woman he remembered, and the tiredness that surrounded her was so visible he wondered how the heck she'd been able to hug him so tightly moments earlier. But either way, broken and tired, she still was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his eyes on, and he had to quell the urge in his suddenly tingling arms to hug her again.

Instead he settled on twirling his finger around a few of her unruly locks, giving her a lopsided smile, indicating that although it was a quite drastic change he still liked her new look.

She shrugged her shoulders a little, giving him a sheepish grin in return and it all felt so familiar and comfortable to him that he couldn't help the widest smile from spreading on his face.

"Sara." He breathed hoarsely.

He hadn't spoken her name in many years and hearing it roll from between his lips with so much emotion made his heart jump against his ribcage in unbridled joy.

"Please, let me buy you a drink."

Her face seemed to lighten up before his eyes and he was sure he would have heard a "yes" if it wasn't for Jane's hand landing on his bicep.

"Hey, here you are. I was getting thirsty out there, you know."

He turned his gaze towards the pretty blonde and smiled widely. "Hey, I was just asking Sara if she would like to join us for a drink."

He'd tried to keep his excitement at bay while uttering her name again, but he must have failed miserably because Jane's eyes widened considerably while she squeezed his bicep a little harder.

"Oh, that would be absolutely lovely!"

He revelled in the look of amazement on Jane's face. She was undoubtedly happy for him that he'd finally found her, and it warmed his heart that she was part of his family, but the feeling of contentment started to vanish when he turned his gaze back to Sara.

It seemed like she'd stepped back from them, distancing herself a little from him, and that was definitely something he didn't like, but the suddenly guarded look on her face concerned him even more. She was looking down, avoiding eye-contact even when she shook Jane's hand in a quiet introduction.

She stepped back a little more crossing her arms on her chest while she started rubbing her bare shoulders as if she was cold. It made him frown. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? She'd seemed so happy to see him minutes earlier. Had she changed her mind?

Old feelings of doubt and insecurity resurfaced, but he was stronger now, he wouldn't give them the chance to spread.

He stepped forward and lifted his hand to grab her fore-arm gently.

"Come, let's find a table to sit at so we can talk a little."

She bypassed his movement, stepping to the side a little so his hand wouldn't make contact with her skin, and he would be lying if he'd say it didn't feel like a hot blade had just sliced his heart in two.

"Euhm... I just... need to go to the restroom first..." She offered softly, her gaze still firmly plastered on everything but him "You... uhm, just go look for ... a table already... I'll join you later."

He frowned even more. He'd just found her after ten years, so no fibre in his body was willing to let her out of his sight just yet. He glanced behind her and saw the entrance to the restrooms not far from them, and though, her obvious rejection was eating at his confidence, he wouldn't give in so easily. He'd learned pretty fast how head-strong she could be. Well, it was time to let her know, he could be stubborn too.

"No, no, it's fine. The restroom's just over there. Just go ahead and take your time, we will be waiting here for you."

She seemed disappointed at his resilience, but nodded half-heartedly anyway before she turned to go to the restroom.

Okay, so her strange behaviour after their initial zealous reunion troubled him somewhat, but he wasn't ready to give up so easily. When she came out of that door again he would show her the man he'd become today, the man he'd become because of her, and there was nothing that was going to stop him from doing that. Not even she herself.

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

_What the hell are you doing here? Are you absolutely out off your fucking mind? _

_'Go to the reunion, Sara. Face your past with a head held up high, and it will help you achieve your goals and the future that seems impossible now.' _

_Yeah, right! _

Sara was sitting on top of a closed toilet inside the farthest cubicle, and while the words of her sponsor kept replaying in her head she couldn't help letting out a puff of air in pure resentment. 

Christian. That fucking sarcastic bastard!

Help her? HELP HER?

Five months ago she´d hit rock bottom, and though she was slowly climbing her way up out of this hellhole, she still was nowhere near the surface, let along risen above it. So how the heck could this help her in her recovery-process?

She felt small, ugly and defeated, and she really didn't need to see that reflected in the eyes of _these_ people to know it.

Tears of frustration clouded her vision, and she had to bite her fist to prevent a sob from getting out. She was NOT going to cry out loud. She wouldn't give them more dirt to gossip about than they already had.

She started rocking back and forth softly, while she felt the inside of her elbow start to itch and the back of her throat start to burn. The cravings were back again, always back again, and while the first silent tears escaped from her eyes, she realised that she needed it all, again. Alcohol, morphine, anything really.

This was a test, like everything seemed to be these days. But her sponsor had made it seem like it would be a piece of cake, like she would gain so much from this evening. _It wasn't and she wouldn't_, 'cause all she felt was  fucking miserable.

Christian. That fucking asshole!

And while flashes of perfect blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes flashed before hers she couldn't deny it any longer that it wasn't these people that had the power to cripple her. Not _these_ people. No! More like _one _person in particular, or maybe _two_ in this case.

She'd felt numb throughout the evening. She'd made herself ready, had driven to the gymnasium, and had entered, all on auto-pilot, successfully ignoring all the whispers she'd heard and widened gazes she'd felt upon her back. She hadn't really felt anything at all, and she'd been grateful for that, until of course, the most amazing turquoise eyes had connected with hers.

The utter and overwhelming happiness she'd felt upon seeing him had shaken her to the core. Never, since the death of her parents had she felt something that even came close to how she'd felt when his arms had been around her, and although she didn't understand how this could be, after spending barely a few hours with him in another life-time, she'd still thrived on the energy his presence had given.

He'd seemed happy to see her, and for reasons she couldn't comprehend that fact had made her all warm and toasty inside. It had all seemed too good to be true, and of course it was, it hadn't even lasted for a minute before _she_ came along. The girlfriend, the wife, she didn't really know _who_ precisely, but it didn't matter because she was absolutely stunning, and intelligent for sure, and goddamn sweet and friendly too, and basically everything she herself was not.

Had she really hoped he would still be available, that he would have waited, _for her_?

An unladylike snort escaped her while she brought the back of her hand up to her cheeks to rub the tears away stubbornly.

_Yeah right! Keep on dreaming, baby girl. Fairytale princes like him didn't wait for crack-whores like her. _

She'd followed up on him a little in the past ten years, and seeing him rise to the successful man she'd long knew he was, had always brought joy to her heart, even when she herself had been disappearing in a downward spiral of decay.   

She didn't know how she could have fooled herself so much, but deep down she'd hoped that he too had felt that strange connection so many years back, a connection he too had never found again in his later relationships, and that he too had missed her crazy, just like he too had maybe hoped for something more tonight.

Oh, what a fool she'd been.

He probably didn't even remember her all that well, let alone the few hours they'd spent together.

She needed to get out of here, pronto, without him noticing. Maybe she could slip past them?

Her mind was already coming up with different escape routes, away from the happy couple when Sara heard a couple of women enter the restroom.

She stopped cleaning up her face with a bit of toilet paper, and grimaced when she felt her eyes already puffy and tender. Concealing she had cried would be impossible now to these hawk-like women.

So she decided she'd wait until the group had left to resurface and compose herself and then she'd slip by Michael when he wasn't looking. _There_, that was an easy enough plan to execute, right?

But as bits and pieces of the women's conversation flowed her way, her naive hope was once again cut to pieces in no time.

"Oh god, I just want to smear chocolate sauce over his naked body and lick him all over."

"I bet you're sorry you treated him so cruelly back in the days, huh, Logan?"

"Pfff, that little debacle. Honey, we're all grown-ups here, I'm sure everybody realises it was just some stupid kids' prank. I bet he doesn't even remember it. God, did you see those muscles, and hell, that suit. He must be swimming in cash."

"Wow, I see that _grown up-attitude_ is really workin' for ya."

"Oh, shut it, girl. You're just jealous I'm the only one who's got a chance with him tonight."   

"Hellooooooo, ..., was I the only one who saw him rubbing against his girlfriend on the dance-floor like he was fucking her through her clothes, and may I remind you off a certain quarterback out there that bears the same wedding ring as you." 

"What? Josh? Pfff, he's too busy reliving his top touchdown moments with his football buddies to care who I flirt with, and the blonde bimbo? ... Okay, so she's fine, ..., but she still doesn't hold a candle to me in any way. Scofield is not gonna know what hit him, and before he has time to react, I will be sucking his cock ten ways from tomorrow in the locker-room."

"How very modest and pristinely said of you."

The rest of the conversation was lost on Sara as the women went into the gymnasium again.

She dropped her head in her hands and shuddered out the breath she'd been holding.

_Oh, great!_

Now she would have to deal with Logan as well as Michael.

Christian, that fucking prick.

She tried to focus all her anger at the man who'd semi forced her to go to this, and although she knew it wasn't his fault and he just wanted to help, it was the only way to distract her from the stubborn tears that were ready again to fall and from the cruel image of the one man she craved for in the arms of another woman. Logan or Jane, it didn't really matter, because all she knew was that it wasn't going to be her.

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

_Oh, Michael. Poor naive Michael. _

Jane had seen the spectacle come to live around her through steadily widening eyes, and not for the first time in her long friendship with Michael she wondered how someone so intelligent could be so daft when it came to women.

She had to give him a little credit though, because he wasn't falling for that blonde air-head's tricks.

Logan, and her minions had joined them outside the restroom's door fifteen minutes earlier, and since then she'd shamelessly tried to flirt with Michael, offering him nothing less than herself if he just said the right words.

It hadn't taken her long to realise that Logan was indeed THE Logan who had pulled that horrible stunt on her friend, and since then she'd been clenching her fists behind her back, ready to break the bitch's nose if she dared to lay a single finger on Michael.

He however seemed his usual suave and polite self, bypassing her flirty comments easily and trying to built an earnest and adult conversation between him and the group.

Jane once again marvelled at his ability to make the best out of a bad situation, but how he could seem so collect and without any trace of a grudge towards the woman who'd humiliated him so, was beyond herself, because if it were up to her, that Logan-woman would have long been nothing but a heap of bloody flesh at her feet. She guessed she resembled his older brother a lot more regarding patience and forgiveness. No wonder they'd hooked up.

So yes, while that bitch was throwing herself out there, Michael did his best to bypass her politely with growing pity in his eyes. Oh, good! Now he was feeling sorry for her, for her pathetic attempts at trying to get in the spotlights, and though she had no clue, all the others saw how she was embarrassing herself too.

She noticed the growing smirk on Michael's face and frowned.

Maybe, this had been his plan all along, maybe he _was_ taking revenge for the things Logan had done to him. Maybe this kind of retribution was way more cruel than any beating she could give.

_Oh, Michael, you sneaky bastard_.

Jane squinted her eyes at him while she tried to hide looking all too conceited when she realised Logan was digging her own grave, but then she saw Michael turn his slightly smug face towards the woman on his left, and faster than the strike of lightning the smugness was replaced with the most puppy-dog-faced look she'd ever seen. And the problem was, he didn't even realise how smitten he was by the lady next to him. Just like Sara didn't seem to understand how smitten she was by Michael. And to top things off, they both didn't seem to notice how very smitten they seemed to be by each-other.

_'Smite, smote, smitten'_  Jane groaned inwardly. It was all just one big love-struck angst fest, and if she didn't already like him so damn much, she might get disgusted by the foolish infatuated look on Michael's face whenever his eyes fell on the pretty woman next to him.

She actually felt sorry for them, and if Michael continued behaving like such a naive, daft, single-braincelled typical man, she was sure to hit him in the back of the head to knock some sense into that caveman brain of his.

Couldn't he see how much she was suffering?

Firstly he had been completely oblivious to the fact that Sara seemed threatened by Jane. Sara had obviously misinterpreted their relationship and had tried to back away physically from Michael. This had filled Jane with hope for the two infatuated kids in front of her. Sara wouldn't feel so threatened if she hadn't hoped for something more with Michael, right? But at the same time her heart had twisted in agony, every time she saw Sara avoid his touch, or his gaze, something that made Michael's hope and self-esteem crumble before her eyes.

Secondly, his absolute unawareness of how uncomfortable she felt in the presence of this group made her want to kick him in the groin. He normally picked up on these things pretty fast, then why was he being so daft all of a sudden. Seeing the almost trance-like look in his eyes, she reckoned it had something to do with the slender woman next to him. He was actually so besotted with her that he couldn't even see he was hurting her.

She'd actually tried to slip past them quietly after returning from the restroom, but of course Michael had seen her, and in the ten minutes they'd been standing here, trying to act like civilised people, she'd attempted to excuse herself four times, all of which Michael had bypassed easily.

Why couldn't he see that these bitches were hurting her? Like _a typical man_ he heard the words that left their mouths, and like _a very typical man_ he had no grasp what so ever about the thousands of things women could say to each other in-between those words. Like true evil snakes that most of the females were, they'd attacked her clothes, appearance, and weight and by the looks of it Sara wouldn't be able to take much more of it. The woman was positively crumbling before her eyes.

God, her best friend was hurting because he thought the love of his life didn't think he was good enough, while said 'love of his life' felt undesirable and ugly and was in no way aware of the smitten looks Michael was throwing her way. That jabbering bitch on her right was nothing short of ripping her dress from her body and throwing her naked slutty self at her best friend's feet, and Jane herself was consistently quelling the urge to knock some sense into Michael's head after she ripped the annoying vocal cords out of Logan's throat with her bare hands.

God, her head hurt!

She was waiting for a slip of Logan, any slip at all, and as if god had something to do with it, the miracle was presented only five seconds later.

"And what about you, Sar-bear." Jane concluded that Logan really seemed like a true witch, with the way she mockingly dragged out the sugar name. "How have you been?"

Sara seemed startled to suddenly be in the middle of everybody's attention and while she struggled to find the right words, Logan interrupted her.

"I guess, the punk-attire was a little outdated, huh, but don't worry, this heroin-chic-style you chose, it's really working for you. Nice touch with the collar-bones sticking out and stuff."

Logan had said it so innocently sweet it took a moment for Jane to comprehend what she'd meant, but seeing all the shocked faces around the circle and Sara's widened eyes starting to get watery, she put two and two together rapidly.

"I guess you couldn't afford all that much after being released from jail, huh?"

The mixture of humiliation and pain that contorted Sara's pretty features, was enough to stun Jane to silence momentarily and the cruelty of Logan's cold personality left her paralysed, even when she saw a teary-eyed Sara back away clumsily while stuttering 'she had to leave'.

Michael's desperate call-out to an already unstoppable fleeing Sara, snapped her out of her shock-induced coma, but before she had time to finally give the bitch what she deserved, a livid Michael pushed by her to get into Logan's face.

A collective gasp of shock ran through the group, as they'd never seen Michael look so angry, and while they expected to be blown away by his shouts and swears, what came out was even worse.

It was calm, and low: the deadliest kind. 

"Logan, I strongly suggest that you quit the bitch-act now that you still can. It's getting old... real fast! And I know there isn't the largest brain-mass in your head for you to comprehend this, but let me spell it out for you so you'll understand: it's _not_ cool, it's _not _an attitude that will get you somewhere out here in the real world, and _everybody_ resents you for it, ... even your so called friends by your side. Did you know, they felt embarrassed by you during our whole talk? Yes, embarrassed, as in 'totally mortified' to be known as a friend of someone so stupid."

Michael's dead stare remained, Logan's shocked eyes moved nervously to all of her friends for support, support she didn't get as they all looked everywhere but at her, and Jane, well, Jane's head-ache had miraculously disappeared.

"One by one, your friends are going to realise what most of us have already known for a long time, that you're nothing but an empty shell who is nothing without her snide remarks. So if you don't want to end up alone and miserable, again I strongly advise you to drop the act."

Michael started to turn, but stopped midstride to deliver his final blow.

"And for the record, that woman you just chased away, even in her darkest hour, she looks a thousand times prettier than you'll ever be, and she doesn't even have to try. You'll never reach her level of sophistication and beauty, and in a minute I'll go look for her and find her and say all that and more until she believes it, because trust me, right now, she's the only one not seeing how much more beautiful she is than you, ... _you ugly cunt_."

Jane couldn't hold in the surprised squeal that left her lungs upon hearing her otherwise so polite friend swear like that. She was sure he'd never said 'cunt' out loud ever before, but it was certainly a development that she approved off.

She saw him start to stride from the group towards the door Sara had disappeared behind, but with a quick jerk of his arm she stopped him once again.

His still furious eyes turned confused when they clashed with hers.

"Wait just ... one second." She mouthed exaggeratedly, while she grabbed a disregarded glass of beer from a nearby table.

She felt dozens of pairs of eyes trained on her while she closed the few feet between her and Logan.

"Please correct me if I'm wrong, 'cause I wasn't really present the first time, but I think you deserve something in the lines of this..."

And before she'd even finished her own sentence she dumped the half-filled pint of beer all over Logan's front and topped it off with a slap to her wet and shocked face.

Jane absolutely thrived on the stifled giggles she heard all around her and continued innocently "Oops, or was it the other way around."

"Oh well," She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "My bad! .... Bye Bye."

With a little wave of her hand she turned to a stunned Michael and hooked her arm in his while they started speed walking out of the gymnasium.

They didn't stop until they'd reached the car and Michael collapsed against it, but while she burst out laughing like a maniac, her friend seemed to struggle to breathe.

She sobered up immediately and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Hey Mike, just breathe, ... shhhhht calm down, ... it's over. You did it."

He needed another minute to catch his breath but when she saw the hesitant grin appear on his face she couldn't help giving him one of her toothiest smiles.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" He asked with quiet contentment.

It didn't last long however, because soon the image of a fleeing troublesome woman flashed before both their eyes.

With the speed of lightning Michael's pleased demeanour transformed in one of concern and she grabbed his shoulders again and turned him around towards his own car.

"Go!"

"Jane... I can't... you..." He uttered immediately but she would have none of it "**I** ... will be fine, I will call Lincoln in a minute, and trust me, he will be glad to pick me up when I tell him even a bit of what has happened here tonight. He's the biggest gossip-bitch out there, don't you know that?"

She saw his hesitant gaze switch between guilt and relieve but he still wouldn't mount the driver's seat.

"GO!"

The loudness of her command startled him a little, but it propelled him into action. Thirty seconds later he was buckled up behind the wheel, with the motor running and the window rolled down.

She squeezed his shoulder through the open window. "Tell her I'm not your girlfriend immediately."

His head shot up in surprise "What?"

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head softly. _That's a_ _typical daft man, alright_. "Just tell her, will ya? Trust me."

He still seemed confused but he nodded anyway, and as she began to retract her hand from his shoulder, he grabbed a hold of it.

They locked eyes and she was a little startled by the intensity in his.

"Thank you." He breathed.

The gratitude in his voice was so strong, it made her realise yet again what a very important evening this had been for Michael, and hopefully, still would be, and knowing she'd played a small part in his victory made her heart sore with love for this boy.

Tears suddenly clouded her vision, and she would be damned before she'd show him how much this was effecting her too, so in a very uncontrolled move, she almost dove into the open window, and smothered him with the most bendy and uncomfortable hug she'd ever given. But the twisted position of her body didn't matter, because he hugged her back even more fiercely, and when the soft touch of his lips fell on her temple, she realised this was a moment that neither of them would ever forget.  

"Go get her, Tiger!" was the last thing she whispered before retracting herself from his embrace and hitting the roof of his car.

She watched until the car had left her sight, before she let herself sniffle out loud, and while she wiped at her watery eyes with frustration she hoped with all her heart that Michael would find Sara.

One stubborn tear managed to escape and she chuckled because of that.

"God damn, these crazy kids, they're making me soft." She whispered into the silent air around her, before she grabbed for her cell-phone and called Lincoln.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Michael's assistant copyright of the lovely Pemphredo.

All the 'evil eyes' copyright of Momma T.

And Michael Scofield copyright of Mikoki. HA!  .... uh ... No? ... Paul Scheuring ... Who the Fck is that? ... Seriously? ... Not even, like, his right arm or somethin'... No? *pouts*

Oe, oe. A kiss from the teacher and a desk closer to the board for those of you who know where he will find our distressed young lady. Oe oe, and a lot of inappropriate kisses from the teacher and a glance underneath her skirt for those who guess which nifty tricks Michael is gonna use. Hihi. Remember the nifty new tricks?

Luv you,  chickies

Babaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaai


End file.
